so i can wash

dandelion drink
warm and sweet simmered on the stove
for hours
whose root i collected
on thursday
cooked on sunday now
sipping as i decompress hard people
of the day
those people that, (make me think of that poem i memorized once, words of
rumi
through the english translation of daniel ladinsky)

punch a hole in your being whenever they are around
and then you leak out energy and other kinds of vitals you could have used *

reflecting how on my good days there are no people like that
right? but some days they seem to be
everywhere

well not everywhere, just in particular places

taking a bite of a (maybe gala sort of sweet not too special) apple
and refilling
my mug, one i’ve carried along with me to different houses and
homes, in the car, and sometimes to work, across the country and back? shades of sky blue with a ridged handle so i can wash
down

the apple with some more
dandelion root.

 

 

*the china doll in us – rumi, translated by Daniel Ladinsky

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