who you are
doesn’t seem to matter
after all aren’t you only
any joyous child on the yellow
grass of spring
who I am, too,
doesn’t seem to matter
I am just an ununique
box-kite playing joyously
on the spring wind
you laugh and run;
I dip and turn on a current
you move, and I move,
between us a thread so fine
it's often missed, in the game of things,
according to the works
of the old sages:
I should double back
on the cord of our union; find some way
to escape into the open air
but then, when I breach the sun,
and the light breaches you
when I’m whirled here and there
on the bluster of your gravity;
the great mystery loses mastery
and liberty just
doesn’t seem to matter
“Box-Kite” was printed in Harvest Time, No. 5 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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