Holding yourself in position,
staying up there, god willing,
the day you may become the right amount of yourself.
Window veil nose bag,
flick your head, the curtain twitches.
Peer, what appears?
What appears to happen
as the carriage clock
slowly sinks into the mantle?
What are your peers?
Could you ever know,
architect,
father,
of the coup of
the cul-de-sac,
blind in the brine.
No comments:
Post a Comment