there is a small worn record
asking “staaaaaaayaaaaaaaay”
pleading “stay in my corner”
behind every good woman
there is a secret audacious
(and really unjustifiable
in the terms we know to speak)
blooming of faith
a whispered reminder
of breathing and blinking
a windblown taste
of gardenia/hibiscus homecomings
a warm thrill
of some humid starlit walk
to nowhere
what i’m saying is
behind every good woman
there is mostly air
and her air
of believing it
will catch you
and her air
of believing it will catcher
is everything
ashe
