can’t watch
thunder,
won’t hear
lightning strike,
but feel them rage
in tandem
throughout
breathless night.
shadow work
he brews
storms-
consumed by
the cup
then reads the
leaves
before chewing
them up.
soggy trail..
along a
dried up stream,
steers us deeper
into foggy
green
where the undead
used to
tread.
it’s everyday
rain-
i see reflected in
each pace
by
the
window,
in each turn
to say..
“hey.”
a rust moon taints
the stars..
shooting across
our eyes,
flakes cascade
from sky,
settling upon
tongues-
too acrid for
some.
i feel you
closer,
when we sing
together,
yet,
too often
we hum the same
lonely tune
in different
rooms.
by rippling
river,
i spotted
her,
waiting for
sailor,
eyes skimming
tides–
braced for his
return,
longing for his
ship
to
part the
sky.
each key on
her piano
holds mystery
waiting to be played
and i’m pleased
to sit and
listen,
in surrender to
the game.
i lit a match to
see you
better
under
moonlight,
you turned
away
as if the flash
was too
bright–
as though i
blinded
night.
fallen angel,
i don’t scorn
you
for wanting more than
what was
yours-
for trudging down
those stairs,
but am concerned
now that it’s
changed
your
loyalty
to playing fair.
hands in the garden 
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