I let myself fall
I let myself be liked
I let the birds chirp their song of freedom
I let my book drop to the floor
I let the window be my soldier
I let flowers tickle the bees
I let myself stand up
I let the bathtub flood my apartment
I let you think I was a tooth fairy
I let coffee drip down your face into your mouth
I let the ocean turn black
I let the air vessel float with its mighty wings
I let losing be the new winning
I let good poems die for the sake of narwhals
I let her into my kitchen
I let her eat the food in front of her without a spoon
I let the fork in its cave with its many twins
I let the bubbles in their bottles as I sipped from their mouth
I let the dress float through the ground level liquid
I let myself believe your truth
I let myself walk on
I let me be folly.

After Matthew Dickman's *24 Hours