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flower book poems: that still place

that still place

it looks exactly like love- but
In my graveyard mumblings
I don't know how to reach into it
In my greedy grabbing
I don't know how to let it
In my spinning I can hardly sit with it
In my faithless speeding
I don't realize I can run with it
In my self-conscious hyena laughing
I forget I can chuckle with it
Who is penetrating whom?

I will take some time and make friends with it.