spring poem

What to do with the itch that cannot be scratched? (a cyclic poem)
You can blow on it, gently
You can sit with it
Under it, over it, near it,
And watch it

You can dissect it

You can scream it out
You can sing it out
You can dance it out
You can walk it out
You can wear it out
You can stretch it out

You can talk it out
And talk it out again
And talk it out again

You can meditate on it
You can theorize it
You can try to understand it
You can resent it
You can love it
You can forget it
Almost

You can write a poem about it

You can try to scratch it
With a lost rainbow
With a blade of grass
With a willing soul
With another body

You can try to scratch it
And fail

You can write a poem about it

You can live with it
You can live in it
You can live it

They say you can live without it too
(but don’t believe everything they say)

And when all is said and done,
Closing your eyes to the dark
It will be right there
In the base of your throat
In the curve of your belly
In the hollow of your back

So what can you do with this itch that cannot be scratched?

Well...

You can blow on it, gently
You can sit with it,
Under it, over it, near it...