I open my lungs to this day
and my eyes meet yours. Can you
see the small cloud floating
like a song before the sun
of my left eye, silent,
soft, collecting colors
and edges of the world?
Another, smaller lies in the water
of the right eye, hardly named.
I try to get to know them
like neighbors, but honestly,
who knows their hunger?
All that I know, all that I want
is to open these twin suns
to what is before them. I carry
the black box of mirrors,
holding it up to the light.
Come with me, let some of your
light fall over the dark squares
of our book we clothespin to dry.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment