burn these rivers that spill from
swollen lips. i was never ready for
this. and he unwinds from a day that
has lasted four years and props himself
in front of me then tells me not to
touch.

i continue to look out of windows long
since boarded-up. to keep me in perhaps
or to keep all others out. and he leans
into my shadow and says,
"i'm ready now"
and i find myself bending before i know it
to fall down before him and begin loving him
enough for thirty-six winters
and a handful of spring,
a mouthful of
summer.

12/04/2003

Posted on 12/05/2003
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