Her poetry is a ransom note,
an invite to an egg hunt

Obstacles in course while
she’s outside harm’s way

Her language is elliptical hedgerow
I sidle along, groping for opening

A search for gulps of air,
oblige me

I’ve got to come up
when I sink

Afloat I yearn
to dive down

My time is in the hold,
the capacity of lungs underwater

My capricious whim:
to let go and breathe

Chagall 2018

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