The venetian cuts the sad,

I knit with it.

There is an endgame between us.

I somersault,

you cartwheel.

We nijinsky through the afternoon,

me, the snake plant and the fish.

We are familiar here,

armored against the free fall,

your hair is in a cleanline room.

Conjure far away,

I am a sunflower gone.

I wish I were with you. 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s