We’ll say we make it up as we go along.
Once upon a time I swallow a pack of love
-hearts, digest raised words for later on.
Around the straight and narrow you peel
the very yarrow of my thoughts, neck
petals in a loves-me loves-me not fashion.
The tissue of my dreams you open back
as a hardback waiting to be read;
mother tongue of motion in invisible ink.
in a straight-backed chair you open purple
as a back and forth kind of thing,
the lavender in verbs, the lilac of speech.
I eat bullseyes and see the black and white of it
as Snow White did, I blame Walt Disney,
Some day my prince will come, the notion of it.