205 Readings | 1 Rating

I Must Be the Cactus

I must be the cactus who loses whole lobes,

stretches green again from just one drop of water.

I think of words

to describe pain.

None are tall enough, dark enough.

Wait, maybe: CAVE.

I am gathering my thoughts,

my belongings.

Neighborhood animals

arrive thin at my door.

In the morning,

inkwells below my eyes.

See how I stand inside a box

called house?

I am still, not planted.

I face a winter sun.

Posted 04/05/19
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