By Khalil Carpenter
From Toledo OH to Poughkeepsie NY
Questions are a fickle currency:
If my [body] met your [body]
Would you
let me catch you
In the rye?
Before
hidden
cliff?
lion den?
snake pit?
Would you see the skull,
Poke sunflower in its hollow eye;
Indulge in dark jokes
On our
sleepless nights?
How I forget
you
Are
far
away;
your
[body]
an idea
above
my mind
And I warned you
How far I'd go
For what's unseen
Somewhere locked in this chest-box
I have words that
[r e a c h]
Will you
let
my [body] catch your
[body]
before
the hidden
cliff of rye?
