Pocket

A poem of innocence

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Who put that pain in those brown eyes?
Not me, not me, surely not me:
just the shadow of me, my dragon body,
teeth snapping shut on your precious soft heart.
It’s a flash-fury — lightspeed lit — I’ve tried to kick
the wick off my ankles so many times, gone
to bury it again and again
in the red creek, where all the rocks
are shaped like hearts (God’s love notes,
slipped into Mother Nature’s pocket, like you
used to…