10 March 2025
11 March 2025
drops
dangerously flimsy
panties
curves
and breaths
being opinions
all of them
you can see behind the face
behind
their book of dead
paper, its
emulation, it
flutters loose the wind
but in your
samadhi
the rain falls slowly so
you can dodge the drops
I think there should
be another stanza
but it’s impossible
to tell
what you’ll do next
given the licence
of life, the way it always
betrays