Maybe a Metronome

The work is done, anyway.
You dragged me out of my cave, just by your scent,
and the you I attached to it.

And so I lost weight,
remembered I had hair and styled it.
I bought clothes in case you might
notice.  You might have.

I studied your movements, as if you were a
constellation I would join in the velvet blanket, as if
you were a timepiece, maybe a metronome,
and you would hear me sing and chord.

You might have, but you couldn’t admit it.
You had momentum, you had flow.
You had a passport and I had a cave.

So I am alone still but the work is done.
Some other lonely hunter will swirl around
the kill you missed in your momentum,

the corazon you crushed in your flow.

—-Wren Tuatha

Join our Hippie Chick Diaries fanpage on facebook!