The rocking feels familiar
because we have been here
before, swaying on the crescent
of a black hour. A moment poised
on the lip of dawn. I am not rooted
like this oak but I will tender a tentative
nest. A patchwork home for the feathered
rhythm of your breath. Because this is too much
it is not enough. The contradiction of insufficiency.
Dec 16, 2010
Dec 16, 2010 at 8:17 PM UTC
The rocking feels familiar
because we have been here
before, swaying on the crescent
of a black hour. A moment poised
on the lip of dawn. I am not rooted
like this oak but I will tender a tentative
nest. A patchwork home for the feathered
rhythm of your breath. Because this is too much
it is not enough. The contradiction of insufficiency.
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