Run
ii.
There’s something about
being barefoot.
A feeling you just
can’t beat.
I think it’s the feeling
you get when you’re feeling
the absence of
shoes
on your feet.
There’s something about
being barefoot.
A feeling you just
can’t beat.
I think it’s the feeling
you get when you’re feeling
the absence of
shoes
on your feet.
Midnight run, full
moon, jack
rabbits bounce-freeze-bounce
across
the path. One stops,
nose twitching as
I pass then
zig-zag-scurries off
to warn
the warren:
…big rabbit,
up ahead, bad
hop.
forgotten too long
tears become strong.
rivers are crying.
courtesy knock…or
turn as you please?
laundry basket keys.
lucky puddle—
secret kiss.
rainy day wish.
didn’t intend
to flirt.
Marilyn skirt.
always sticky
stepping into you.
gum. on my shoe.
All of this.
Because
she is not
in Love.
Because she
is not in Love
with the Photographer,
she points.
shoots.
prays.
Because she is not
in Love
with the Dancer, she
disregards
the
extra shoe
and
stays.
Love
ii.
Because she is
not in Love
with the Prophet, she arrives
ahead
of time
not knowing
what
she’ll do.
Love
i.
Because
she is not in Love
with the Poet, she sits
in front
at readings—stands
in line
between
the audience
and
meaning.