|
Port of Entry
The world breathes
its generous display: You can have this! And this!
Look mama, a fish tail! a child cries at the icy
seafood window, and in the blip before hearing
her mother's Yes! she's gone, time
is silk, burning, eyes out of nowhere open petals, pages
—she's through, she's peeking
onto the tip of the flat-wavy universe,
a world rushes forward and up through
her feet, palms & fingertips.
Ecstasy
move us, each first time.
|
