each passive glance—a shy laughing rhythm.
Those who stare strive to understand
like a speck in their eyes.
Find him by the lane named after him that follows
him like a sick tail
or in the widowed building that proposes to be his
grave palace.
Find him near the palms he fears climbing
for their veins stem the bed that begs him
sunk. On a lake glittered by sunset
find him crossing,
waved in, weighed
till he’s weightless
and time forgets.
Author Bio:
Pascale Louissaint, also known as Tia Paul-Louis, is a wife, mother and poet from Florida. Her writing experience began at age 11 but after a series of powerful events in her young adulthood, poetry became more of a home than a friend. Furthermore, pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing from National University inspired her to not only continue to write but to learn more of what the Creative Writing World has to offer.