Sunday, April 19, 2015

Eating Violets

Butterfly in the sky,
I'm five years old
spinning in the kitchen
with a glass of milk.

I'm eating violets, Violet,
it's spring, I'm trembling,
does this always mean - ?

Rain and new channels,
unrain and otherworldly aches,
budding green,
gasping at the tiny births
of fingertips.

Whose heart is this that that that
stole mine
one day in the garden,
one feverish night?

I gave, I give on giving
more than I have,
more than my body,
things thoughts
which you made, and only
can condense, romance,
or enter by.