Plankton

Look at me wintering, wise little raccoon,
cold, anxious fingers licking tea and dreadlocks,
sorting yellow seeds from poppy seeds,
poppy seeds from dirt, dirt from food.
Washing and typing, busy hands to
keep up with this head, ahead of this
pining for summer and shiny sweat.

Light will rise soon, bringing haiku and
didgeridoos.

Shiny things. Knobs to turn and regret.
Spilling and more things to sort.
Shiny things, the glint in his eye in a
photograph. The prism in his eye so
close that his open mouth is sifting me
in like plankton. Hazel. His eyes are
shiny. I surrender my skin to his
nutrition.

Light kisses his calendar and we are
markers and pix and a plate of
pearly mung beans. Yellow seeds left,
poppy right, and parsley, deep green
from between the bricks. A shiny eye
and I loose my language.

—WT

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