Life Unshaped

words I write
yet I do not
till they wake
into a deer’s skin
breathing my thoughts
unfolded on antlers’ sky

love I shape
yet I do not
till it finds a river
scurrying away on its tooth
gnawing my feelings
crushed into a squirrel’s dream

life I live
yet I do not
till it becomes a ball
bouncing into its fall

hopping, rolling, spinning
around its own grave

and born
unearthed from its home
back, on a wingless flight

image: arts.mit.edu

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