and you'd come up again
in our conversation,
a bit flustered
wandering through haystacks in June
what else did you want from me?
it's either this or that...
words shared yet lost
meaningless and obsolete
a hazy afternoon for two
i knew a child who built houses
out of pebbles and twigs
he glued them together with honeycombs
and called it love.
those inhibitions
he tore up and sealed
for another day
then one day the wind thought
to come around to tumble
the bees harpooning above him
hypnotizing stings,
the cries within him
undulated to the frequencies,
of bright peonies in the spring.
and I saw this,
twist I did,
to bend the story wayward
like the rivers without moons
peering inquisitively at me.
But they were only fictions
carved by ancestors and
ancestors past,
whichever way to get their point across
to hold my head in their arms.
it was
folklore I'd forgotten to let go
the impossible book held deep in my chest
the anomaly I'd refused to relent
the searching for paradise.