MAWNING

is as morning does and does do and will
to power, will to shower, will to anxiety,
will it? You warrior, unhoned vortex, loose
sailing. The ice breaks in, take a seat, take a dip
the water’s fine. Lattice-and-mother-tongue.
Sour cream. Our scream. Holler back as the globe
shutters. Shoulder my burden, my refrain, from
here, I can see the mildew forming on the daffodils.
I always think. I always, the depressed science.
Silence falls on the envelope. The leaves blather.
Leave the leaves. The bored flaws. Put your tracksuit
on inside out and pretend you’re a mop. Slake your
wantons. The fanciest feast. Untimely dinner. Stroke
the horse’s main parts: head, eyelashes, shoe.
Eccentric elevator. Fallen practicum. Take a day.
Be a mug. A tall-glass of water. An inconsolate price.

This entry was posted in animals, flight, homelands, naming, poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

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