To Leave Does Not Mean to Forsake

To leave this boundary is to forget invitation, bitten apples.

Basil will die or I might

cultivate a cave to take up a small inch. A functional space

with no affinity to Gertrude.

The same spoon pokes spleen

and I beg you to say our:

like our hour

like our violin.

like our sugar spoon.

Even my bestial assumptions resist symmetry.

I want to spoon more. I want to understand

fear of parallelism.

I know how it goes: it goes

yeah yeah yeah. I don’t even

want you to think.