Andererway

when it pushes shadow from the trees

and presses it from their needles outside the Dye House

and the bus is dark inside when it picks apart the lawn

and you are here

will you soften me? for the sun

will you deflect it?

I am blinking in the atrium the library

I don’t know if you have a room for me

or where on me you can lie down

but I want my anger easily exhausted

the way fact takes the rug from an argument

we both go on the floor

I do feel your shade

your wavy boughs you dream

you are leaving me

I would become an ordinary person if you did

but you are awake and I am ordinary anyway

and it pushes through me

Source: PoetryNow (2018)