more
more than this
you must give me more
i am not armed for aimless love
for the faded sundays under lazy fans
the lukewarm spreading of a family cat
the dispassionate mumbling between a blanket and duvet and the needless needing by tea left alone in the microwave
i am equipped with years of me
of my love for love through love
of the kind of desire not found in plastic spoons
in the sweetened pick me up of stuck honey
or the smell of dried feet hung
against your breath after the dying morning
here i am
a mess of everywhere inside of you
here i am
an order of everything outside of me
waiting for you to use the world well by ultimately using it less
whisper it hold it on my tongue whole
there is still stillness left to do
and be done by
even as…
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According to poet Muriel Rukeyser, “the world would split open.”
