Saturday 14 April 2012

BABY

Chuckling like a grenade about to explode
in a fit of bubbles you're all hiccups
and clammy nervousness in my arms
or one hundred china plates
waiting to be dropped on terracotta


but vowels are playing your lungs in attempts
at flights out of the universe
into the unknown spaces beyond this room
where potential is effortless
and without boundaries like mountains

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