Last night you asked
for simple and uncomposed poetry
for it to flow raw from my tongue
I thought of liquid heat
and skin
and contact
but couldn't
tie words together
I'd forgotten all my knots
from days of studying and practice
my thoughts were suddenly
very stubborn
like a fist full of dirt,
longing to be freed
but only small grains escaping
not enough to let words take root
and begin something new