Lessons from a dusty shelf.

Lesson 1. 

First tilt the head,
then raise the nose,
a cautious sniff,
a brow pulled up.

Then open mouth,
then lick the air

(it tastes different in your bones).

Lesson 2.

Is there poison in your soul?
Do you know?
Do you know?
I found some in mine.
(It took some time.)
There was more than I expected
to find.

So now I'm exterminating it.
Overhauling my soul a bit.
And I think it'll be fine.
Though it might take some time.
(There was more than I expected
to find.)

Lesson 3.

I hope that I will never
consume love in table spoons:
measured doses of mundane medicine
designed to
refresh
rejuvenate
re-something.

I want to choke on love.
Hold so much of it in my mouth
that it spills out.
And when it falls from my
lips - I am sure about this -
may it look like
what gratitude does.