Suzanne rearranges your hands on the snow-white delivery
She bakes you enchiladas when her mother flies to Haiti
For hurricanes and earthquakes are bounding toward your Eskimo igloo
The night is tearing open as she slakes your wounded salty brain
Suzanne takes your down pillow and surprises your tango-fleeing relatives
She talks you down from deer-born misgiving, like a bowl of the Sun.
to be.
continue?
No comments:
Post a Comment