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leaving your sack now

by Paul Marino

you made me receive the moon that day
(we were trembling for long expanses)
with a remembrance of the supervised students' soiree,
in the same clothes as the day before.
you have never seen me the same.
now a big kite, with a sound hardcore,
you no longer call me your kitten.
remember the first time you kissed my lips; heaps of dead leaves
and small meteorological sketches scattered across the lowlands.
from another time, memories of your hands.
did you feel the chip in my front tooth with your tongue?
(i cannot leave it alone.)
less prone to interference,
i've read of what arrives next for you by mistake.
this is the second time,
probably because we have the same name.
so stop crying in your quilted nest,
this summer won't stop feeling dumb
if repeating what's necessary to hurt yourself
only leaves you feeling numb.
maybe on the right roof when we're both wearing wings - after
the joking and good humored inquiries - before the party
control students dance with moderate restraint,
we'll take off,
cross Bottomless Lake, or at least try,
risking the possibility that i,
charming/disarming/beautiful,
fall flat
again.

06/16/2013

Posted on 06/16/2013
Copyright © 2021 Paul Marino

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by George Hoerner on 06/16/13 at 11:26 AM

This is a very lovely piece Paul.

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