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,
misunderstandings
collated, uncanned me
– like a business card over and over
I write on the back:
 
Pull my feet
from my footing,
free me snugly,
smile,
look away.


John Nyman