I
slumber, and miss you, watching geese. I’m a soul for
collars,
or maybe a necktie. We tatted teardrops, slowly
transfixed
and terrified. It’s but a feather, to rise for
names,
to war through scars. Was it kitsch, a torn
design,
to
wrestle lungs? I felt for soul, to stress a womb, a tad
bit
numb; and such was liquor, afraid to see you, so
godly.
We live it shapeless, a deep abyss, living through
drugs.
Have you seen it—there—a stranger? It took a
mirror,
to watch it run.
The
pain in droplets, chasing joy, to hear for children;
and
more a vapor, to vanish seen, a vernal disposition. I
told
a zephyr, to send it now, melting in a tub. I’m
gilded,
to spread wings, to wrestle highs. Here’s a lantern,
ever
to see, the face of ponds. I’m unknown—to feel you,
burning
pages. It was ever a dream, a basin in a basement;
and
more illusion, to affront ethics. I challenge for peace,
an abstract sentence,
as crazed as, “I thought you.”
