3.01.2013

morphology

If what I love
is really what you hate,
then how do I know
what’s real
anyway?

I’ve built my world
on your sepal-covered buds,
and now the ants
congregate,
forcing me to the ground.

Let’s retreat
to that time
when we knew how to love,
before the interloping
of outsiders.

This poem is inspired by the music of Tim Easton, the (wonderful) subject of today's music/writing prompt over at Real Toads.