Is it a poppy?
she asks,
and I wonder…
Poetry
Are you more of a morning person
or more of a late day pigeon…
It’s simple
I see a carved chair leg
I imagine…
You close your eyes,
you can sleep on the couch,
no problem…
the orange lingering beneath blue
expanse after the sun sets…
sometimes you circle
and you circle
and you never…
the tree sways in the wind,
leaves drift left and right,
downward and downward,
baby rocking in mother’s arms…
you played me your heartbeat
my heart beat along…
am mush
I am the salt
left behind…