a brief portrayal of their harbinger

a brief portrayal of their harbinger

-------

 

hands so full and the straw and the fire.

       without a remembering of the

       early language,   -eyes still visible

 from the abandoned kitchen window-

    without a truth regenerating each

    and every day,    -watching-  there

is morning.        the tile once cold against

   her back   and the      heavens gathered

        pressed hard into her ribs; counting;

    the breaths one can take when one is given

breath.             if they let these savings live here,

    as the blinds sword the light in halves,

    as the binding whole celebrates moments

    of air or of darkness,     what bridge will

remain to mark the rivers conquered to elevate

   the peaceful sun?     I would wish to fill

something that was never empty,     she

     says to the newday, slowly erupting with

color unchecked and wild.

 

if there is a hollow honest enough to welcome

    us,   curl gently into my hand and we

    will listen as the fabric molds their

    attempt to disguise one another,  as

 the other and to learn to love oneself.

 

as I mine you           finding.        while

   grain cascades across the open room.

let the having have       and  giving;

    almost noon now,    somehow asking

may I serve,   may I become the task

   you have readied for?

Reviews

[victoria]

fwonderful, this a fine line,
'' I would wish to fill
something that was never empty, she
says to the newday, slowly erupting with
color unchecked and wild.''