Saturday, August 3, 2019

Choices

I am not sure
when it came to be
that to drink from
an unwashed glass
signaled freedom

The grass unmown
meets with my thighs now
and I am free to neglect
the roses in every garden
or bend useful
so as to tend the creatures
those others, unspoken
who I cannot as yet dicipher
so as to learn to speak their needs

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.