Larisa’s question: Write a poem about leaving your eyes on the fence to dry [eh?] (I had to make it a question, you lazy arse Canuck.)

Larisa’s word: Pysanky

The cake went sour
Since I looked at your feet;
The Pysanky rolled there.
I didn’t lift my gaze to meet

You’d see my eyes were not dry.

I vowed I wouldn’t look again
Until I’d packed away the things I feel.
So that you would like me again;
So again you would want me, to be

It’s been a week.

Waiting for my eyes to dry,
I left them on the fence.
My rejection of this curdling cream,
Marking out the days since

I’m tired of staring at pickets. It’s time
I asked you to be mine.