the present day circe: winteredgingonspring
By; ShinigamiForever

He is full of the dustiness of rain.
I have quite forgotten
his name
now.

Something wooden lacquered
that has to do with
maybe
tea ceremonies.
And there is porcelain
behind the teeth?

Or I could be thinking of
his fingers. When he
emerges from the
hidden crevices of the floor,
he is
stained with sweat
and holy sacrosanct things
like
being alive.

He is
profound. I cannot think
of a reason. When I have some time, later,
I'll dig up this memory of
bitter leaves
and wonder why he is
profound.

everything is still
just like the morning
after spring drowned. I have
forgotten his name.

I think I gave it to the
daisies,
but like
the absence of a name
and crime.

you can think of a reason for me.