Take another day, flip
through pages desperately
seeking a poetic
heliport to land on—damselfly
become aware of what’s precious
turf the way no insect
could. Become the contradiction
you’ve dreamed of
embodying all your life. Chuckle
over the claw
foot tub in the middle
of a bedroom in a rundown apartment
in the middle
of last night’s dream. Just that—the criticism
was a mirage. Plans
to plant a garden inside the porcelain
basin no longer necessary. Nothing’s
real anymore, so do it today—do it now.
I love that damselfly line! Great piece.
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Thanks so much for the comment and for checking out my blog. I know your shoreline. Went to Wesleyan and lived in New Haven for a couple of years.
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