this is what I refer to as
the explosive quality of waiting.
fingernails dig into the palms of soft pillows,
of the way we carry ourselves
down and out into the air, the afternoon,
this in-between season.
how fitting that it is warm,
cool, all temperatures falling
under the category of “not quite.”
1 comment:
your words poetic are not pathetic / on the other hand, babe, you shine / and I can feel after every line / a thrill devine, down my spine.
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