[050409], [050412]

 

I want to feel as I could eat a stone,

growing, hardened to the mire.

Symbols softened to their curves,

I’d be unafraid of what’s not mine;

never quake, falter, nor undecide.

But, terror! I’d trample subtle leaves

among the cracks.

No, keen & wary, surveying my steps

to prevent the trees from falling on me

should I cut off their breath.

Should I find lumps in my tea,

spread them out so we can see

the salts & what’s its origins,

what you look like when you rest.

In careful words,

and bashful grin,

I let you know, “You’re free to creak.”

Your lovely stumbling is welcome to me.