NOTES FROM DIJON
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NOTES FROM DIJON

My little bird,

You will not hear from me for a while,

For there is someone else’s pain to deal with

It is large and crippling and deserves my attention.

I attend to it – visits, late night calls-

An anxiety and a strain when I’m not attending to it.

So I feel a bit sapped and drained –

A cut flower going toward oblivion-

An iris fading to brown then invisible.

I am sorry for this and the timing

I don’t want to hurt and be hurt.

Know that I think of you often

And see your eyes – expecting miracles

That I cannot perform. Fuckingly,

Smith