the same old cracked-up dawn.
Same concrete against the stumpy flowers
dry as summer.
What happened to all the maybes,
All those forks to choose from?
Fork one fork two; one-a-fork two-a-fork
The trouble is, we resonate with beauty,
Seeking the mending way
I have a certain feeling in the bone.
It came on cell by cell,
raising me up a half an inch
at a time.
|United Nations ~ November 2014|