Larisa’s question: Write a poem about leaving your eyes on the fence to dry [eh?]
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 Yours.
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 Yours.
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 Yours.
I’m tired of staring at pickets. It’s time I asked you to be mine.