This Is Poetry
This is poetry, it cannot be
Planned.
A spontaneous flutter of
Humingbird’s wings
Will do.
That was poetry—
In the curve of your shoulder
This is poetry;
In my mood tonight.
In the experience of you,
Even your breath.
Unminted,
Tangled with the scent of my
Blossom shirt
That you hated so I wore it
And you’ll love me all the better for it.
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