Monday, 28 April 2014

22. Cups

we turn over cups
    believing the ball is beneath

this one / that one
    —we shadow the sleight

the movement of hands
    pheasant wings aflutter

tracked skin and
    everything is worth it to follow

me and you believing
    in springtime and skin—I

do not doubt that
    eventually we will flip

the cup and find
    a round white future

just ripe enough and exactly
    where we thought it would be

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