David Arthur, No. 9: OUR WILD FLOWERS

On a plateau of wild

flowers is where I keep

you. No memory ever

happened placing you

here, but alas, when I think

of you, that’s where I find you.

Blowing around in the wind

while everybody vicariously

views your confidence, but I,

know the difference. We both

do not know how to exist, nor where

to go, nor how to act appropriately,

but yet, the envious staring eyes

glare, as if, we have this bleak style

of life on lock. If they only knew,

how much blank thoughts

guided our frolicking amongst

dandelion spread. They don’t see

the amount of exhausted oxygen

from our lungs, disseminating

across a triumphant hilltop of freedom.

They don’t realize, the lack of air

could jade a decision making

process. So, we continue to hold

hands, all alone, vacated across

the country. Clenching metaphorical

palms like umbilical chords

attached to freedom. And the only

thing we know, is, we love one

another, all though, we do not

understand

what love is,

beyond

ourselves.

Resident Artist 2: David Arthur, No. 9