I came to this city with the mask
of a stray,
to take all I can.
Taken in, kissed for a bit
while I let my body rest.
To flourish, to spread myself around.
Cotton sheets, smoky couches and office chairs.
Between phone calls, I am fed.
Closing time, I am watered.
There is so much to do,
learn to sew and weed,
a good use for thick bones.
Empty, stretch and begin again.
On California land, unpaved.
Arrows in my hand just in case.
Drawn in every notebook,
margins black and blue.
This is how close I've come,
how close to get.
They keep me nourished,
filling ordinary corners,
otherwise torn and untouched.
They keep me nocturnal,
reminding me to make a point once in a while.
That I can no longer go,
at anyone else's request but my own.
Though I would never get so lost
I could forget this sunshine,
and best intentions.
Our timing is off.
All of this ink and useless text
is the only thing I am weak without.
I have been here long enough,
to take notes, and pack up.

03/21/2005

Posted on 03/22/2005
Copyright © 2024 Kimberly Rhode