EYE TO I
My difference roots around behind my eyes
what I see and you don’t is your loss with a sniff
the mattress across the hall opens like I imagine
clamshell opens with a touch of the sea and choreography
contemporary to me but unleashes your contempt unfurling
your curling lip, sharp tongue and snapping teeth spit
out all between “she’s no artist, she’s a nurse
like the rest of us, carrying your shit packed in a bed pan.”
Yeah, I figure, I won’t look back just dream and fly by night.