“What do you fear?”
I responded I am afraid of boxes,
prisons of the mind
to prevent the sunlight from seeping in;
Boxes, like wells
where your legs caper to the music
somebody selected for you.
I am afraid of them.
Boxes attached to labels and recipes,
sealed by experts,
pretending they are made of iron
to resist the rain.
Boxes that refuse to understand the language of the trees.