Still the World
Why fret the vastness of the world?
Trample endlessly its belly, hungering
for its thighs. Embrace there a sun,
sweat it out, dreaming of frost.
to kiss the winter dew of its forehead.
It amounts to the same
if never you broke the landscape
of your semi-circled arms,
the digested minutia of your home
spun in earthworm time,
regretting the absence
of foreign suns and frosts.
Still the world
fits snugly an eye socket,
is the size of the last dime
in your pocket
you’ve been saving
to quench your thirst.
-published by Paradigm