Oh
to see you, to caress winds, to hear it blush. I’m red inside,
flushed
with fever, buffing an apricot. Its jasper eyes, and
Cognac
breath, and a small pendant. I reach out, to move a
nerve,
to color unspoken. It’s never us, sipping tea, heavy in
dialogue.
It’s more the distance, to ponder waves, a cave of
ambitions.
We dance a peak, to sand a credenza, kneeling to
write.
I never call, for it never was, to muse upon music. A
lantern
burns, filled with oil, the king is watching. This is
dream,
as opposed to peasants, tilling the queen’s garden. I
pluck
a feather, to tickle a chin, sitting there alone. Oh to see
you,
in cocaine white, dragging a Shih Tzu. We part in
loneliness,
to Hop Scotch prose, to witness a snail. Is this
motion,
a lizard’s life, to wait for sunrays? Oh to see you, a
biblic
style, as wild as wolves. We exchange thoughts, to
maintain
stations, careful to smile. Its grace—for owls, and
stealth
for foxes. It’s to ponder weekly, to wait out replies, for
a
green heart. We purpose this way, to want for something.
