Trieb

silly in the trifles
gardening a tender skin
press into the open&
fumble out the words, saying
immaculate, precise
clever(
things)

speaking hands holding eyes
everything is kisses&
all the miles travelled, just
to be so many inches from
fewer&fewer answers to
questions about feeling
to
know(
)she knows

in all the many movements
arranging herself completely&
all the muscles possible
to pluck the silly grown
pulled upon the doors
that open with a secret
,only,
she
gives him

© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.

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