Sunday, April 13, 2014

Refresh and Underbless

May I hear your squeaking shoes
at my doorstep, please?
May I hear your deep whisper
disturb the horses sleeping in the barn?
May I hear your eyelashes flutter
like wings of a moth steeped in dreams?
May you please hold me under
the covers with fingers of warmth
creeping all over
cobwebs spilling
spindling daggers
rumination inflation
flammable leaves
clapping dry heaves
trying to bite
singing or a whistle
culling the cradle
where it has been broken?

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