I received a Valentine in the mail
by that I mean that it was left on
my car seat by the wind. But not
by any wind. No. This wind has a name.
This wind is Not, which is for the best.
And inside the Valentine, which was not
wrapped, was an oak leaf, cut in two,
by a desert hand. I gave it a kiss, because
it’s never good to speak when you are inside
my car seat by the wind. But not
by any wind. No. This wind has a name.
This wind is Not, which is for the best.
And inside the Valentine, which was not
wrapped, was an oak leaf, cut in two,
by a desert hand. I gave it a kiss, because
it’s never good to speak when you are inside
closing your eyes, thinking about horizons.
This one good, this one not. One kiss,
two. You can feel where the wind was not.
This one’s good–none are not. This gift
holds my name.
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