Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Enough


Skeletal hand...

Waving at me...

Already you know me: the caffeinated

and the one

who likes walks where only the trees and God sees…

Thinking of the blue jeans He chose for you: faded acid wash or really crisp like a business woman on Fridays…

What if I forget your raincoat on

days when the sky so fills?

So then I have to rest you under

the grooves of my flesh hands?

A tumble onto the concrete, but perhaps

in the cracks there are flowers there…