No, I’m not “fighting it.”
Enough of waged wars.
I’ve slunk into the window
sill gap it’s left unshut
and puffed me up with words,
prising wide the lit space where
I hate the least
to languish.
Watch me blow out wax
paper boats on
drafts to nowhere; pray only
may they run aground
on green green
reefs of uncut grass.
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