Sunday, breakfast light 

through a cicada wing.

Leave anything on top of a love note 

& it becomes an extra love note.

You mean there are strains of attachment 

known as freedom. You mean 

there are self-portraits with two bodies 

& neither one holding a shadow.

Mostly you mean 

a torpedo unleashed sugarsweet 

across the beach 

of a world mistakenly 

seen as all water & 

how right.