DRAWING SHADOWS IN SAND, DANCING IN A BOTTLE


Because of its beauty, I kill
the orchid instead of letting it die,
dancing on petals.

Now I am bending over
to pick up a gum wrapper buried
in a restaurant floor to write
a poem while everyone else sleeps

in their chairs.
                          Then, while tracing
my own shadow in the sand with a stem
held between two toes, I shall remain
comfortably seated.