Saturday, September 24, 2011


My arms are broken
but I can hold you

While I sleep shards come.
They do the best they can
to enter the soles of my feet.
But my feet are quiet, not
sleeping, just listening.

I recall the screen door wire
lodged for days in my side.
Deeper things, stuck, growing.
Every piece, tapping, a reminder
of what the soul wants.

Every movement is leading.
All signs witness.
The unseen cloud will rain.
The sheets are wet, the sweat,
the tears, the estuary, the delta.

Down the road is a street name
that looks familiar. A bird lands
just so. A woman looks at you
like a lost letter found.
The sun sets behind her shoulder.