July 1

comments 16

Oh heart, heart, heart.

I will bury you deep below
and see what grows–

I don’t want to watch you
working, anymore.

Go cool off in a cellar.
Go improve with age.

I cannot stand your
incessant green chatter—

Go and let the sweet dark
earth take your edge off

and when I dig you out again,
I will freely offer up

your balanced sapor
to anyone who would partake—

that is, to any one
who had the patience

to wait.



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