I have no real identity.
I exist only on paper - A flat, 2-dimensional stick figure.
I have no viscera.
Nothing churns in me - no lust, no rage.
I am content to lie on my page
And occasionally whisper in your ear:
Float, float with me here.
Here where there is no illness or sin,
in the abstract whiteness of potential
© 2006 Rochelle Hope Mehr