Wednesday, June 13, 2012

honestly, there were no words lost
between us, only blood,

nothing that could be given. And the way
we were pulled together, then

apart, left us with gaps
that became our connection.


stiffness, i am toward you
like a bone hand

The wind slams doors
in this house, makes meals
out of dust.

Pushes space around
with its fingers.

Drives through, opens windows,
riffles blinds and speaks
in a full tongue: wake up

you are new again, don't you see
your garden outside the window, grown lush
by steady hands. A tall flower
reaches high above
the window sill, threading sunlight.

Vines protrude through the glass.