when it pushes shadow from the trees
and presses it from their needles outside the Dye House
and the bus is dark inside     when it picks apart the lawn
and you are here
will you soften me?      for the sun
will you deflect it?
I am blinking in the atrium    the library
I don’t know if you have a room for me
or where on me you can lie down
but I want my anger easily exhausted
the way fact takes the rug from an argument
we both go on the floor
I do feel your shade
your wavy boughs   you dream
you are leaving me
I would become an ordinary person if you did
but you are awake   and I am ordinary anyway
and it pushes through me

Sophia Dahlin, "Andererway." Copyright © 2018 by Sophia Dahlin. Used by permission of the author for PoetryNow.
Source: PoetryNow (2018)