my friend the poet
lays with me in the center
of our womb
more metallic than either of us
remembers it
but holding us all the same.
we are the swell of a wave
that carries only once
and this moment is so sacred
I begin to want to tame it
freeze it
hold it still.
it is just then
we are joined by a
young boy living in
a continuous laugh
who runs in and around us
and out once again
leaving behind the echo
of freedom
Serra
June 5, 2011 by tumblehawk
