Poem

in waking a

recollection of

the sharp line of

a jaw, the roundness

of bosom and now

there is only this classroom

and a tremendous

urge to leave,

to wander,

to lie between grass blades

letting shade track over

and off between buildings

stretched into

sky so blue

it vibrates

almost enough

to forget

--RFRY, written Fall 2004

I'm not opening this up for exploration in the same way as the others, but it's an idea of the level of polish/density I'm going for.