i was talking to myself the other day
but i wasn’t listening so i don’t know what i said
i was talking to myself the other day
but i wasn’t listening so i don’t know what i said
i was writing a poem
the other day,
but then i stopped.
realising i was the poem
i pointed to my toes,
each one of them,
and my shins,
and kept going up.
and then i saw your toes, spread out, splayed a little, from the weight of you
and realised you were the poem, too.
I am typing this right now. You are reading this right now. I am typing as you are reading. How can this be?