Poetry
Roxie Powell
Mountains
always at the perfect aesthetic distance while we are the small rodents which seek about the floor for crumbs or perhaps a flake of cheese or schist. MID-DRIFTA fold-away man built from old Ex-Lax wrappers. While you look with exquisite disdain through my invisibility I extract the smell the sensual mid-drift of your passing And you pass without ever quite leaving me. |