A thin black eye lash on my sweater
One of the dark cloaked guardians
That stand so close together in line
and puff out their thickened chests
To guard my fragile blue eyes.
Their bodies drawn in tight like curtains.
But it seems the weakest
Link has fallen off its post
Not as mighty, or as fit as the other
Bristles that still remain.
Why is this the one I am to wish on?
The feeble pray of the huffing wind.
The unfit shepherd who let my
Sheepish eyes be eaten by wolfs
I pick it up between my thumb and finger
Place it in my palm and
I would tell it, but in a whisper
My wish
And I would latch it on tight
And as I blew it away with
Pursed lips and eyes closed shut
And I think that perhaps a lighter
Lash will carry my wish further to you
Than the stronger ones I have plucked out
And wished on Before.
That it will not be weighed down
By its own girth as my wish is already heavy
Enough to hold
And then perhaps my wish on a lash
Will find its way to your lap
And it will sit there in my place
And tell you in the things that my voice
Cannot scream from here that
No one has ever wanted anything more than
I want you.