mumbling
idiot
i don't know
much of much
like why when
you move the
moon moves with
you or why
clouds are up
and grass is
down or why
there's light in
the switch and
time in the
clock or why
bees are so
small and so
mean or why
in dreams i
see and hear
but i don't
taste or touch
or smell but
i know some
things and i
won't tell them
cause it's good
to have one
thing at least
yours like how
just you know
how fast your
hair grows or
how your nails
scratch and how
your bare feet
slap a clean
floor and how
wide you smile
all teeth and
white on the
few days when
you feel the
sun right there
orange warm on
the tip top
of your head
like a crown.
reading
the way the sky's changing,
cerulean to digital,
can't make it to the end
of poems like i used to.
no time to soak in
the final lines like
meat in marinade, heavy
on the wine.
by the time i get there
(if), definitions shift
and i can't find the dictionary.
which symbols still hold?
does stillness hold symbols?
what does holding still
symbolize?
so my eyes flicker
off the page, onto
almost any other thing:
a falling leaf, a falling
leaf, a falling
shadow of an airplane
roaring somewhere
in the air above me.
Copyright © 2005 DeAnne Lyn Smith