it becomes beliefs. so unsteady, so
critical. off into intuition we swim,
we dwell, we change her perfume. bring
your body, invest your mind—you have trouble believing in swiftness—the quickness
of insanity. you have a sin in you.
you have died in you. you were planted, you grew fruits, one took a sickle to
your root. needing confidence, i came
to you, you played so nonchalant, and granted the prayer. rough terrain, in understanding, how parts
work. picking at a bump, an ingrown
hair, shaving closely. such beauty in knowing. Love was correct. I wonder how
it feels to be so smart—such an aphrodisiac—so precious it delivers into anxiety.
i will never say to whom—the feather
in the feature, you walk into self, and deliver an acorn.
a person is torn apart, looking at
attractions, negotiating over morals, making compromises.
i would watch the belly dance,
pulled into soil, earth just keeps showing out.
needing more than giving, to learn
to give, with much tugging in different directions; made to forget, until it
arises again, so much beauty in the remembrance.
i never dialed your heart. you
listened; it never rang. with gut phonics so existential.
