Come sit with me.

Tell me of India, how mist blankets the low land,

and rises in the  green at sunset.

Blow oxygen into my nostrils

pinched with academic fervor.

Uncurl my fingers from their tight grasp,

so, when I lay my pen down

I might pick it up again.

You whisper, cajole

Romance to come again

after I’ve cussed her and chased her far into the night.

You bring me to the water’s edge

and remind me that I am her.

And I dance

wild, satisfied,


DKW, 2015