![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Day 5: when he asks you to stay
So, between setting up my classroom and freaking out at my roster, I got off-track with Week of Poetry. I'm going to try to do the last couple of poems this week. Meanwhile, have a belated Day 5 (though I'm not entirely happy with it):
when he asks you to stay
when he asks you to stay,
you say ATTTCGCGCGA,
& count how DNA turns into RNA turns into proteins,
turns into your reasons for leaving;
you say that this continent makes you strange,
& familiarity is an addiction
you were never good at -
(you sleep on floors with satin sheets while your calluses grow soft,
& you lie & you lie & you lie)
there's lines on his face
like cracks in the ocean floor,
when he asks you to stay.
when he asks you to stay
when he asks you to stay,
you say ATTTCGCGCGA,
& count how DNA turns into RNA turns into proteins,
turns into your reasons for leaving;
you say that this continent makes you strange,
& familiarity is an addiction
you were never good at -
(you sleep on floors with satin sheets while your calluses grow soft,
& you lie & you lie & you lie)
there's lines on his face
like cracks in the ocean floor,
when he asks you to stay.