I Have No Wish To Be Careful In Love: From The Insides Of A Minnow Bucket. {poetry}
I’m staring up at things
from the insides
of a minnow bucket.
I couldn’t tell you why.
Somebody dropped me here.
Was it before
or after
I stopped living in a body?
In the dream?
I couldn’t tell you why.
I’m floating.
no…
I’m sinking,
like a small
smooth round pebble.
Black and nondescript.
One of the ones
that feels perfect in hollowed hands,
when you walk on the shore for hours,
and you carry it with you,
and you’re not sure why.
I’m sinking now
down to the bottom of the minnow bucket,
which is a curious thing,
when in the dream,
you don’t have a body
you aren’t any object
you’re just
A vantage point.
And from the bottom of the bucket
I can hear your voice
murmuring in and out.
Sometimes it comes rushing
in a river-stream over rock
crescendo symphony of sound.
I love your voice.
And I want to tell you.
I want to leap
out of the bucket.
I want
to be the fish you’ve just caught
And suspend myself
in the air
for just one minute.
I want to be
your miracle flying fish,
And I want to tell you
just how much I love
your wry curled lips
that speak your indigo-colored thoughts.
That to me,
your words drip pearls.
Everyone keeps telling me
to be careful in love.
But it’s my own dream after all.
It’s my own dream…
So I’d like to take on a body,
a form,
Even if it means
it scares you a little bit –
that a fish
has jumped itself
from out of the insides
of a bucket
and in
to your eye-line.
Even if it means
I’ve got nothing
but red-flecked glassy fish eyes
to look at you with.
And anyway,
I’d like to think you’d understand me anyway.
I’m only just trying to tell you
that I love your voice.
It’s my own dream,
after all.
I’ve got no wish
to be careful
in love.
***
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