He Comes From Somewhere

probably from the grooves of ivy-veins running up
the sleeksoft black lamp post on the corner
he’s from between the rook of the ear
or possibly ensnared somewhere between
the fleshiness of the lobe
he’s from the heavy pauses separating
strong tempos in Beethoven’s symphonies
he’s from the circular bead of dew
that slowly rolls down the center channel
of a blade of neon grass
he’s maybe from the protruding collarbone
curvaceous and defined in nature
he’s from the wings of a baby blue jay
desiring flight
or perhaps from the core of a peach
perfectly pruned with muddy brownness
he’s the calm that dresses bodies
as  eyelids kiss and calm nerve-endings
he’s the set of eyes that look
and ask for something more than is being said
he’s from the subtle spaces between words
that hang off lips like the slow drip
of honey
he’s the stack of papers
piled messily, like an artist’s
spiraled and jutted out at the edges
he doesn’t ask
he doesn’t stop
he breaks

me and that man:


About laurenfedorko

Aspiring writer. English teacher. Philosophy: know more about the world than you did yesterday and lessen the suffering of others.
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