Poetry Magazine
Photo (Op/tative) Synthesis
The general increase in green
accords in me
with a growing and specific gravity
about — it hopes —
to be undone like a bud.
What kind of leaf
or the existence of bugs
or the always later rumor
of ravishment by wind or water
don’t interest me.
Sun does.
Come close.
Come slow.
And look me again in the eyes
as you do.
Source: Poetry (May 2008).
Poems by Liz Waldner
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