<snip>
One day this clay suit
Will tell my story to all who cry again
One day I will be
Inseparable from the sky
</snip>
POEM HEAT
A small space
may be heated
by a poem.
The poem doesn't
burn. The poet
merely intones.
-- "How
small?"
-- "Pretty small!"
Christopher
Franke
<snip>
true words can be found...
My hand reaches out to grab one
slippery like a fish the tighter my grasp, the less likely I'll
get my wish
I sit perfectly still and feel a tiny kiss
right between my fingers written there in blood it says
"my dear you're still too scared of the rising flood'
floods can be necessary when roots go down too deep
instead of nibbling at the soil, they begin to leech
not using all the nutrients, growing big but dead
a flood can take you back to a country outside your head
</snip>
