December 8

December 8, 2014
by C
comments 6
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You said

         sips of breath

but I remembered

         gulps of air–

I’m American, Rumi,
a Texan to boot,

but still I can
do nuance,

and know too
how the throat

tightens from peril,
at giving all

or giving up—
I’m leaving soon

for the desert,
winter-stark

and emptied,
with nothing to find,

or so I hope,
so tired now

of looking,
but God help me,

I can’t stop.

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