It’s this
the before
all else
the quiet
lazy slow
when wishes
and dreams
bubble up
and float
and the
low sun
turns the
clouds into
orange sherbet
Knew
I woke
to rain
a purr
of percussion
I opened
the window
and watched
as drops
broke the
mirrors of
light puddles
and everything
else besides
the cool
shiny black
of streets
returning to
bed then
I knew
Mittens
To be
back after
being gone
felt like
I was
a pair
of very
cold hands
slipping slowly
into a
pair of
warm mittens
Ocean
I had forgotten
the constant din
of life’s snare
and its cymbal
having lived for
so many years
in my sanctuary
I test drove
being all alone
and it wasn’t
until I lost
control to illness
did I remember
that almost every
journey that one
can ever take
is more fun
and easier when
taken by two
and that despite
my own isolation
I’m not an
island but part
of an ocean
Less
The absent
it of
something once
drilled in
or bored
out or
grew around
long gone
love or
pain or
something else
entirely invisible
leaving what
once was
even less
