Andererway

when it pushes shadow from the trees and presses it from their needles outside the Dye House and the bus is dark inside when it picks apart the lawn and you are here will you soften me? for the sun will you deflect it? I am blinking in the atrium the library I don’t know if you have a room for me or where on me you can lie down but I want my anger easily exhausted the way fact takes the rug from an argument we both go on the floor I do feel your shade your wavy boughs you dream you are leaving me I would become an ordinary person if you did but you are awake and I am ordinary anyway and it pushes through me