neither here nor there,
often nowhere at all.
no matter
alone I am
my own
home, the only one
who can offer me
a place
to rest
weeks
and months
and years of flight
my heart is tired
now
I cannot count on you
to wrap it
in liquid aqua silk
and kiss it
goodnight
I cannot count on you
to see the ocean
drop by drop
being squeezed
from my body
until I am parched
and fevered
I can
only count on you
to hand me
a tepid glass
of tomato juice
and tell me it's pure
cool spring
water
even were I stupid
as you think I am
I could still see
the color
of blood turning
to water
through your fingers
(c) 2013, by Hannah Six
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