A Short Little Thing

When I read poetry

my stomach drops a little with nerves.

I have to sneeze and cry at the same time.

 

When I read poetry

I’m not sure which way is up.

I feel like I’m drowning and also falling in

love.  At the same time.

 

When I read poetry

I’m in my own little cave.

The world is suddenly safe, and also

Truth so exposed.

It’s ok.

 

I could try to do this forever, read poetry.

But I know me.  I would get tired,

need to live a little more.

 

Wouldn’t be long till I ran into her on accident,

drawn back in to the

longing, longed-after, not so long forgotten

language I know.

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