when I say something witty –


out, because your insides can’t bear

to be in. Whatever you pulled inside

I deflated. I didn’t even need a pin.


I saw you. When you were under the fig tree

I saw you.


While you loaf,

I’ll be under lamplight

tracing the shadow of my hand

on the table.


All I am, the pitcher of thought

without the thought

of preservation.


Unlike you,

unlike salmon,

my back will break


the surface. You are the ahhh

of eternal dimension. I am the oh

of a punched stomach.


Listed at Duotrope
Listed with Poets & Writers
CLMP Member
List with Art Deadline
Follow us on MagCloud