me, I’m self effacing only in lines,
only in verse.
humbled by stark correction,
a closed fist perhaps,
a silent light that sets you on fire
(they call you a forest fire)
drowning in self,
an ocean as well,
insides rocking
tidal laments that implode in quiet, wild
violence,
stalking the world’s line,
biding mine with letters
and blades      my time;
(no they call me on my way to steal your man)
stifled, I’m waiting
for that envelope
you promised
reminding me I was
right about time and
space is the price.

“space”