My mother told me her “diamonds
are small now”
in reference to the panels of plastic
stained glass she has applied to
each of the tiles
lining her kitchen.
I was home, earlier this week,
when her diamonds were larger
and I laughed, to which she took
scissors to her plastic
stained glass diamonds
shrinking them in half.
I always see the wild world and I
Go wild, inconsolable with glee
I tend to feel a future with different textures,
as if by some act of advancement
my entire universe would be composed
of a different type matter.
this is what poetry does to me, the poetry
of the self, which shrinks or engrosses,
captivating my imagination with the
potential of escaping.
Is it memory, the fragment abstract that is so
easy, a different bundle of colors and in
there i am warm, or broken- sometimes
poetry extracts that, dazzles it dancing- other
wise I starve, eyes blotted and everything is
paper, stiff and empty.
I like to watch the world go wild but
i have to do it on my knees.
i have to make the moment current.
I am hunger, sleep and over.