none given

 

Self oppressed I lay myself down

Like a ditch waiting for rain to come

This is only one more overly warm night

And if there is a moon then it has hidden its face

What else could one expect of a coward

Everything is yellowing

Like old paper

I can smell the earth as if I were inside its belly

Eaten and nearly digested by my own digression

I label myself with words

I peer inside a mirror

But these are paper inked blotches

These are only darkened eyes of someone’s daughter

I am             

Remembering

What perhaps I should have forgotten

A body full of its own shape, breathing

Next to me

The sound of swallows with their blue

Throated concern

Building a debt to the future

Outside our front door

They say they bring messages from the dead

I watch them

But they only bring in

More twigs, mud

in which

To birth children

Lover who are you now

Do you ever open that drawer

The place where you once kept my letters?.....