i hold your photograph
too far from
eyes
to make out our
expressions,
then paint on my own,
from a healthy
distance
to see us smile
again.
spiritual evolution
dragging fingers
over strings
hoping something
tickles
where i’m
numb,
while humming notes
all wrong
to hear new
compositions come.
this sorrow’s but
the feather
over my eyes
catching a
breeze–
the dust kicked up
by wind
gusts
causing cathartic
sneeze.
relief sheens in
the dew
of a rose
leaf,
unpicked and left
whole
to bask alone in
morning
glow.
working through
the hurting
while
questioning
what’s
just happened
to leave
us sweating
this long into
the night.
white as house held
in latex hands,
blue as the breath
spit from a
floor fan,
red as deep sky
as dead as these eyes..
black as ink
tainting green land.
inside
we writhe–
two sweaty
ropes
with needs
of their
own,
friction
burns
up and down
our fibers–
better than shiverin’
alone?
at a loaded
table
we tossed our
dice
but some love comes
at a price
i won’t pay
twice
they
couldn’t
separate us
with
a blade,
shan’t break this
embrace
to quell another’s
rage,
we’re tight
enough
to hold the air
in place.
motor’s whirring,
speech is
slurring
past the point
of hot,
gears are stripping,
steel is melting,
mind’s slowing
down..
but not.
hands in the garden 
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