Saturday, August 27

In Gold And South

In gold and south
my niece’s hat upon
one-hundred per cent paper
can start the want
of’why isn’t she up’

at half-two its circles
Round and decorated in
pattern stay her summer sun

I the hat hold

its smell, she her love
why isn’t she up?
She her love just babbling
the clumsy love her nattering

At morning air
she dons the hat
her limbs all childlike chubby
walking unsteady

Ease is my name
the song

Why isn’t this object of
love, softly caught in
clueless meanderings
, awake for me to hold?

upon the copper table Her hat
my lately hours a memory
charming doom
will watch her pack away
breakfast messy am sticking
to furniture and audience

Wake up let’s play
Until morning I wait

Sleep lashes scent
and your hundred per cent paper
hat.

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