Looking Down at My Hands I Feel Like I’m Gonna Be Alive for a Long Time

​

​

and then 

i don’t

i’m late for work

dear god let me be 

a peach 

a french tip nail 

on a finger never lifted 

an exotic butterfly 

lives for two weeks

spends that time 

eating

let me not be romanced 

by this train pushing 

light through a void 

i can’t tell you 

how much i love 

to feel the breeze 

roll past like a 

funeral procession 

i look up what it means 

to breathe under water  

in a dream 

​

​

​

​​