My spirit rises, | |
off the plate, | |
in front of me. | |
And it drifts over, | |
to the space, | |
where she waits. | |
She speaks a language, | |
distilled by time, | |
to nothing more than. | |
Elbow and wink, | |
let in the light. | |
But obstruct my view. | |
Obstruct my view. | |
Let in the light. | |
But obstruct my view. |