First I’ll change his eyes
from brown to green
because I’d rather be reminded
of the algae in the pond
than the bourbon on his tongue.
I’ll say pond when I mean lake
because I prefer the intimacy
of lily pads. I can say things like
*he offered love like it was lemonade,
fresh-squeezed and innocent,*
because then the idea won’t seem so foreign.
And then it won’t seem so dishonest
when dragonflies become hummingbirds
because I envy their tunneling
nature. I can pretend that they
drilled a hole in the sky
where we can live out
the lives I’ve forged for us
through poetry, where
we are together every time.
Aug 7, 2010
Aug 7, 2010 at 10:48 AM UTC
First I’ll change his eyes
from brown to green
because I’d rather be reminded
of the algae in the pond
than the bourbon on his tongue.
I’ll say pond when I mean lake
because I prefer the intimacy
of lily pads. I can say things like
*he offered love like it was lemonade,
fresh-squeezed and innocent,*
because then the idea won’t seem so foreign.
And then it won’t seem so dishonest
when dragonflies become hummingbirds
because I envy their tunneling
nature. I can pretend that they
drilled a hole in the sky
where we can live out
the lives I’ve forged for us
through poetry, where
we are together every time.
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