I lie on the floor
Touching
The rug, the floor,
The brick, the wall
Any texture to make

I stand
On my head
With my feet up against
The wall
So the blood will rush
Down
And make

I start a song
And skip to another
That I hope
Will make

I read
The first few lines
Of a poem
And then the next few
Before I’ve understood
The first few
Searching
For what will make

In the fridge
There may be leftovers
To make

In some club
After nightfall
Deep underground
There she may be
Dancing alone
Just waiting to make

I crawl into bed
And touch her
Hair, skin
Look and ask her
To make

July 02, 2021 at 04:14PM