so angular

so angular

a flash of red , robin flit of a three year old
gril playing in the palm tree's ponytails. hide and seek
with sun and shadow. i watch her but not too closely
i don't want to be her predator. taking her innocence
and making it perform for me outside my window.
it's a long distance from across the yard thru this glass
she peers across the clear divide. perplexed faun. i smile
and she's safe again, auntie. builds her own world.
shack of stairs and panelling
roof. house of whimsy.

remember the time you grabbed the dead stalks and pretended
monkey, some ramifications of play. how my love
was strangled in twists and so could not join you
in the tiki room for aperitifs. we watched him go
ballooning into the unimaginable, the lived. what we couldn't
express was our own movement, the recession from her eyes.
but we tried. i have the files saved on the web. somewhere.
one day i hope to pass
by them like coincidence.


so u/i watch from the third story
cuz three is a magical number it's balance
with background. something to lean against.

succulents in the window soak up sun slanted
while venetion blinds wrestle with venusian moons.
there's graffitti in wings painted with fake snow

on the top pane . its shadow falls across
the rise of your arm as you shift deeper
into the pillow of us. i feel this only because

i have my eyes closed. the flight of a gull,
mundane and exquisite. places the sun
doesn't touch are like dreams with skin.