In my first hour, the thirst was for air,
then for my mother, then
existence—
who could I look to be?
From our first walk alone,
when you’re away
or I’m away
I thirst to walk with you
……………… neverleaving. And blackbird, fly
in the after time.
The Literary Magazine of the Association of Literary Scholars, Critics, and Writers
In my first hour, the thirst was for air,
then for my mother, then
existence—
who could I look to be?
From our first walk alone,
when you’re away
or I’m away
I thirst to walk with you
……………… neverleaving. And blackbird, fly
in the after time.