Fruit in the night
by my solitary self
is freedom
the nationed ones cannot know
the nationed ones look to windows
to know
counting through filters
what one is to be told
revive the baptisms of the satellites
the nationless does know
the fruit in the night
and
what love can spell
how love knows to hold bones
or tell them
the truth of
what home is
– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
novamartinpoetry.com 