for my boat lily
Limp tongue on my brain,
steaming at the morning light, goodly
– sum of my improvisations.
You might laugh a flicker
or a snide blink
so subtle. Surfing
on teardrops, splish
– your swallowing reflex.
Headlong at analog talons,
eyedrum and earball marauders,
collated, uncanned me
– like a business card over and over
I write on the back:
Pull my feet
from my footing,
free me snugly,
look away.

John Nyman