If I look
closely,
with my head
pressed to the wooden table,
and if the light
from a warm, April afternoon,
hits us
(me and the wood)
together...
If I look
closely,
I can see myself,
trapped,
in the table,
in the wooden
lines.
My nose
(its faint outline-long and German)
I am there,
if only for an
afternoon moment.
1 comment:
This is another short observation I had the other day. Again, I feel that this could be a part of a larger poem...not sure just where yet.
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