take me home 𖦹

Question

Where does the octopus
make home? In the yellow 
shallow or in a dark nest 
like a heart’s first 
pump? Who of 
you knows? Who 

of you is big like 
a planet and who 
like the head
of a rusting spoon?

Are you the spoon, rustling
as I silver weekday mornings?
Or is it also evening nights
that you go ahead and
glitter? Like a top floor

with the lights off, very
quietly? Or very very,
can you be very in your

very loud? You can. What do

you see in the lights
on your inner eyelid’s cave,
green like octopus legs tangling
for sleep or creation? You can
see it all. Will you blink?

Will you wink at a stranger 
for me? This was 
your question. Ok, maybe,
I said, yes. Ok, I can.