in a sweater poorly knit and an unsuspecting smile
|
little Moses drifts downstream in the Nile
|
a fumbling reply, an akward rigid laugh
|
I’m carried helpless by my floating basket raft
|
your flavor in my mind swings back and forth between
|
sweeter than any wine and bitter as mustard greens
|
light and dark as honeydew and pumpernickel bread
|
the trap I set for you seems to have caught my leg instead!
|
as you plow some other field try and forget my name
|
see what harvest yields, and, supposing I’d do the same
|
I planted rows of peas but by the first week in July
|
they should of come up to my knees
|
but they were maybe ankle high
|
take the fingers from your flute to weave your colored yarns
|
and boil down your fruit to preserves in mason jars
|
but now the books are overdue and the goats are underfed
|
the trap I set for you seems to have caught my leg instead!
|
you’re a door-without-a-key, a field-without-a-fence
|
you made a holy fool of me and I’ve thanked you ever since.
|
if she comes circling back we’ll end where we’d begun
|
like two pennies on the train track the train crushed into one
|
or if I’m a crown without a king, if I’m a broken open seed
|
if I come without a thing, then I come with all I need
|
no boat out in the blue, no place to rest your head,
|
the trap I set for you seems to have caught my leg instead!
|
do
|
not
|
exist
|
only
|
YOU
|
exist |