An Intruder Poem by Miroslava Odalovic

You like those worlds of order
A seaming order you don’t understand
That look like systems or something
Seaming you don’t understand
Deeply rooted in rules
The rules you don’t understand
You like to touch them I know
I know and I understand
Because your hair is wild
You like to blow them away
Scatter their neatness into the air
Because your eyes are restless
You like to open them up
And see what lies lie therein
Because your hands are free
You like to build them again
Whatever the peril design
Because you never had roots
You like to plant them in sunrooms
With lots of windows and halls

You are euthanasia sleeping on the patchworks
Perhaps you should leave those worlds alone