________________________________________________________

You

and

your

thick head of

hair,

your trendy shades,

and

I mean the shadows

beside you

and not

the shadows

under your
eyes, grape-colored,
bruised-like, when do you
ever sleep? O the power

of youth,

how it feels to be

energetic

with desperation,

without

the urge to fall
face-down on

The Urge Of.

This is not a poem for a reader
so stop what you are doing—

invite the Blank into mind
as you would a guest.

There is no use in digging up the
cultural contex of
frequently-wronged margins.