15 May 2012


a task
descended with minimal sounds of feathers getting sorted out
settled on my skin in that place that is both shoulder and neck
the place where lovers’ fingers should always always be

the task
looked into my ear because
an ear, like an eye, is a window

have you ever tried to close an ear?
ears stay open
ears are un-defendable

right in my ear-cradle my task laid itself down
turned into a newborn child
limped its blossom fists
released its fiddlehead spine
dreamed itself to me

stop complaining
even internally
about the shortness of the day