(I stand behind my openness and give
it form enough to make a silhouette.
Direct is the address at which I live:
unliking lies, unlikely to forget.
My negative emotions surface float
like skin on scalded milk, like water down
a duckling’s back. To feel is to emote
and clarify, without the depth to drown.)

(And if beneath there lurks in me a part
that hides from me in ancient atmosphere,
if there’s commitment hidden in my heart
by early self, disorganized, unclear,
the adjective that makes the list complete,
describing me and flooring me, is “sweet.”)