Dedicated to the point of return.
There was never ever, every body,
cloudy dusty antibodies, trying
to make everything all right in the world.
How seriously the social skin burned
when there was always one hundred bodies.
Smelly sardines just sitting there fitting
into open cans, lids so tightly curled.
The odors slightly in the air did churn.
Neighbours, parents, children, everybody
turning their noses toward the sky, smelling
all the better air way up there unfurled.
If you accept the sadness all around
getting off the ground is easier found.
1 comment:
Post a Comment