Me? As soon as method far in time in a village coiled from stone
I met an elder in a teahouse. He proposed, and I mentioned sure
I’ll be part of you, and we walked collectively to the seller of latest hearts.
I purchased one, an olive, a fats one, did as I used to be instructed,
set it on my tender chest close to the place my birthmark is
and after I flew dwelling and kissed my kids
one sniffed up “dandelion” and the opposite hmmmmed “wild grass.”
A pal mentioned since that journey I give my time simpler,
that my my bads and sorrys have a ghee-ish butter really feel.
Look, you’re the pal who mentioned I share time freer, so that you
know the olive labored; so my expensive one, as I sit right here
at your bedside consoling when you sweat out in your
nightgown-jellied grief, let me select. For you?
A sweet-tart pomegranate, prongonat, combo lung and coronary heart.
Environment friendly pumper for the hiccup sobs to return.
It’s even lovelier when damaged—and entire? Thug-tough.
Not like Evie’s Crimson Scrumptious, when slit doesn’t air-brown.
Pal, why wouldn’t you need to have in you
self-parable, hive of glammy seed coats simply embedded
not caught? I ought to let you know as you brow-twitch on this dim room’s
lily odor, babes, when a brand new hub begins its sink-in, fuck, it burns,
and coughing up the previous one with its huck pneumonics isn’t good,
however the godheart can’t dwell by way of abscission. The way it goes, I’ve heard,
you’re out part-fine then brown anthurium leaf drops in your shoe.
