I am still
plump, loaf-risen
Pink and tender
from rubbing myself
ripe.
What caves do we crawl in when we play like
animals?
What are these holes in the universe
I am attuned to finding and spreading open
to dance in where there is no light?
I stand, look at you
from where the rain has
caressed lightly like fingers
the fallen cherry blossoms,
trying to soak them back to life
but they lie, love-
ridden, ladled with the scent of
rose-not-quites.
You see,
It is in the
unwanting.
My legs are like a cricket's
as I burst from the center
into song.
No comments:
Post a Comment