klara[dot]nz
Give Me This
river bank. one twist, near
the rushes and the far-bank
deep mud, stack the rocks,
light the fire, whistle. bang
the pan at lunch. or leave me
behind. go away, give me this
why is my only posession
the canopies against summer
sky in midday sun, just touching
as if to close over, a casket.
let me sink and fill my mouth
with dirt, crumble over the roast
and on christmas day, $4.50
screwdriver set and hours to read.
let me leave. i cannot be here.
when i hurt others with my focus
protect myself implicitly
survival blanket
let me think of something else