Poems from Siena Costanzo
I, Oh I
Have taken my last shot
With notes covered in an-
-earthy ink, scratched down with an arrow
Sealed with a leaf, then thrown...
Pens leak in the sky,
My mirror showing the sight
Ink dripping down clouds
Staing bright white.
As I sprint through the gravel
Stones...
It hides in a forest of keys,
typing words that sink into my soil.
I'd feed it mushrooms,
If it only showed its face.
Hidden warts...