Your name is always perched upon my lipthe way a timid birdtries to settle upona too-thin wire.
I tread o’er boneslong-buried ‘neath this ancient roadand fold myself withinthe towering limbs that stretch against a blood orange sky.
At the edge of reason,under dark turned leaves,lives another seasonwhere anger growsand cities burnwhere lovers shakeand…
I
Your hands
twitterpatedinnervatedthere we sat and there we waitedthrough that dark and stormy…
madness of the windemaciated snowmenstarved by warming sun
We are monumentsmade of sand,angels without wings,and mortal godswho bend a knee to kiss the ground…