I Am Not Here

I read a poem

called hovering at a low altitude-

for a moment I had a body outside the house

and I had to go back downstairs

to find it.

But I wonder

if at this moment

I was the fog floating up

above the Appalachian saddles.

I am lost.

I am no

body.

I am not a gilded spotted butterfly

fluttering in an early spring breeze.

I am not a day to improve.

I am not an inspiration.

I am not the word you seek.

I am not the one who we once thought I was.

I am lost.

I am no

body.

-Jesse Haydn

Published by Jesse Haydn Poetry

The written word is life. I am the proverbial poet-at-heart.

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