Nowhere I nestle –
my lover’s away
and my horse has lost his pasture.
Under the lawnmower,
cut up like a paperdoll.
I will run down hallways,
find my good sign and a pond to drink from.
I will go in one direction, bring
my hands to my temples and think.
Think of a wet log by a river, of a
porcupine in the wood. I will count
the sparrows in the sky and when I’m done,
I will gather stones and call them beautiful.
But now there is this swaying road and my
albino heart. I am scattered, blurred
like a blueberry smeared upon a mirror.
Close at hand – the cable wire and the drugs.
I will find my bed, salvation in the bathwater.
I will tip the basket on its side,
feeding on the fruits that were once censored
©2013 All rights belong with the Author.