Over the cliff, over the cliff,
I fall three stories and five fingertips
later
into your lap.
From here, you expect me
to see my way through
the ground of you,
or rather,
you expect me to trip.
This will not do.

Your expectations of how
I should travel you.

04/11/2006

Posted on 04/11/2006
Copyright © 2024 Angela Cotterman