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,
free.
DKW, 2015