(12) Poem
Poem
The day is too hot and too close
For a jailbreak – better to accept
One’s trap and make an open field of it.
What is there amongst flowers, anyway,
That hasn’t already been written into oblivion?
What is there amongst rocks?
What is there amongst mountains and rivers and stars?
What is there amongst friends?
Amongst soldiers? Amongst children?
What is there, anyway, amongst cannibals?
The trails that bees make? Apes (they sing:
Canopy, canopy, canopy, crutch!
The sloughing off! The sloughing off!)?
What is there amongst optometrists?
Amongst grass baskets in a shop?
Giraffes? Teaspoons?
What is there amongst the gaps between
The myriad things that gather if not
A choice? For example:
The silhouette of you
Chooses the silhouette of me into being.