Hope
Me in my delicious denial
of what happens next
morning, and you in search
of magicandbutterflies and
something so pure, it
puts this song on repeat
play forever and makes you
fall in love, which I have never
seen. What I mean is two rockets,
our meteors arcing past each
other at a million milesanhour.
You made like religion, while I
piled every conceivable backpack
outside our front door, with
one word attached: Please.
It works in every language.
She who eats snow
flakes, please. Teach me
the ancient art of REM
again. Because: Do you?
and, What do you think
a starfish looks like
when it has a heartattack?
My Groups
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Poetry Updated: Yesterday
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Mississippi Teacher Corps Updated: Oct 9, 2009
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Peace Corps Updated: Sep 16, 2009
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