Broken Tires

Open your hands

to palms with split ends,

my love---

the road will bend around you.

 

 

listen above me,

you write "do you love me?"

and hear in splintered walls

the words beyond us that do call

for destination, heart, and longing

until we smear such glass with

the blood of the dead

while the rest of the world

 

 

forgets us to bed