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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