Archive | November 2014

Drop

Was this one last warmth
before snow covered your bones?
Or have you found shelter
in simple?

Either way,
we howl with wind that plays the trees.
They stand in black and white lines
we learn to see between.
And we howl again
because we are not gone yet.

Like water,
you seek the path of least resistance,
downward and downward,
forgetful of freezing
that slows progress to glacial.

But you know where to find us.
We still make this habit
of endurance.
And the embers glow fitful,
drawing us in.

And there never are answers —
just a turning into wind,
a walking into snow,
and movement,
whether glacial or sudden.

Slowly

Our blood thickens and slows
as color is taken up and away
by November’s wind.
Again,
we learn endurance,
with tears that freeze
in silver lines
on skin that can’t hold heat.
But we still turn in
to face it.

A dissipating fog of breath —
who knows where it is?
Who knows where it goes?
Let it,
and mark its slow progress
on the map.
Somewhere on this skin,
you also find home.
And I want to spill,
but slowly and unfrozen.
There is no safety
in this silence.

Touch

Do not know
if I was wrong
or am.
You’re such an engaging purpose,
but I forget how
to take up the cause.

Before I skip it away,
turn this stone in my hand —
its rough and smooth
sides and edges,
hours into years —
and despite the progress of erosion,
we end the same —
afraid to touch
or be touched.