poetry bubbles out of seams
endless streams of white washed laundry
taking breaths and inhaling beauty
this is what we see while we walk home
arm and arm and hand in hand
carelessly, without effort,
tie dyes that have fallen apart
we skip.
we skip with laughs that twinkle more
harshly than the sun.
we gather the beating of a heart - but it's
only a drum.
hear me cry at night, foolishly
until i can no longer breathe another breath of
lost air clear in the atmosphere
tossed like a salad - my mother used to
make those. spinach and assorted
greens
feeling healthy and incomplete.
like there's more to life than just
the fear of catching a tomato
in my mouth.
feel me cough feel me wheeze
until i spit out
all your red seeds.
