"I'm like you, my dear"
A leafleteer of belle-lettres
A fan of lentissimo,
doloroso.
Leeks and lemon verbena.
A funambulist with zero
visibility.
I'm blue sugar
on the lunar line. Iron
pyrite and diamondbacks.
Luminescent,
nascent. A shell pink
shack. I'm the lot
you draw, the hammock
where you sip elixirs
in exile. Where havalinas
forage the yard, tearing up
dogtooth violets.
A geography
of gypsum and hooves.
I'm like you, my dear.
Sugarcube, cuttlebone.
But you're a peach tree borer
and I'm a goldfinch watching you
funnel your way through my home.
Like virga you disappear
before I even reach your shadow.
Though you leave a residue,
texture of red
falling across the unsung
country of Arkansas . Light
like a woman's sleeve
sweeping over the field.
I'm like you, my dear. Just a little
too near the Scylla. Sea-
level and singing
a cappella.
|
