You hope for movement in a plastic bag.
Not like that time you heard somebody
Catch a lustful breath in the middle of a cafe.
In such a feeble air fluctuation no vigor
To be found,
Seen
Or, dare to try, admitted.
Yet just like that time you were a slimy
Tiny blob of skin covered in vernix.
Breathless and still like a startled mouse.
Silent for one thousand
Two hundred
Indecisive seconds.
You hope that some day all those plastic bags
Will also cry out loud their deaths,
Stand up and breathe the brightest blue and yellow,
The never ending song of bugs, birds, grass
And peaceful cities
Waking up
At dawn.
Plastic bags
© Copyright: Евсеева Дарья Андреевна, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122051303487
Свидетельство о публикации №122051303487
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