Boundary
Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t
I wouldn’t mind limbo here
Bobbing in the far offing, the corner
Of ceiling and sea
I would be red, I think
Vibrating against the hues of refraction
You could find me whenever
That way
Dusk closed in fast
Not quite as I pictured it
Yet here we are, this gown
Probed by tubes of bland sustenance
I wasn’t ready, but to prepare
I prepare you
Look for me wherever sky turns to water
And salt hangs, wet, in the air
No comments:
Post a Comment