219
︎︎︎ Timothy Berrigan
︎ JUNE 2, 2022
there I opened the window
and threw myself out in a certain slant of sunlight
loving it
the way a poem loves the spring
in its own words
in its own words
the rain makes a statement
I can’t think of a plant without you really
the wind is in italics when going out and looking for it
I count the days differently than you
but end up with the same number
there’s too many and not enough time and I’ve lost track anyways
it would be good to become a single sentence
a climate
an orange
some small magic wavering there glassy like gravity
tasting differently in the sunlight
charred like a million atoms
a blank melody catapulting
exhaling the molecular
and so what if my soul has no secret at all
and then there’s this feeling again
and threw myself out in a certain slant of sunlight
loving it
the way a poem loves the spring
in its own words
in its own words
the rain makes a statement
I can’t think of a plant without you really
the wind is in italics when going out and looking for it
I count the days differently than you
but end up with the same number
there’s too many and not enough time and I’ve lost track anyways
it would be good to become a single sentence
a climate
an orange
some small magic wavering there glassy like gravity
tasting differently in the sunlight
charred like a million atoms
a blank melody catapulting
exhaling the molecular
and so what if my soul has no secret at all
and then there’s this feeling again