"THE GIFT"

Taking accountability for any and all of the light I keep to myself.

I let you float around,
float around,
gather a film of skirt and drift like pollen

I say you’re sweet because I’m not gripping you
I’ve been grown from the ground

I leave you alone and won’t intervene
I guess to see what becomes of you,
nurtured by round spaces
Sweet because I’m not gripping

Float around, past meadows and neighbor farms,
off to the crust of docks
where the sea clucks a haggard welcome

Where have you been?
The fishwives and their children are starving

I watch them from a couch cushion
They are scuttling over the boards,
snatching greedily at the sky to save their hearts

J.W.