Just like you I
only have this
subtle smell
of the world
right now –
and just like
you I grow most golden
watching
strangers be themselves
(the mothers who
pull their children
to their chests,
chaotic corners
in the hottest
afternoons).
But I am not
trapped.
So what to do with
this misty gift?
I say my brain
is bad but maybe that
is that just a
flirting form,
old impulse to
mess-announce
from the
platform
of all love, assumed.
No comments:
Post a Comment