You live unreal in sound
with no ears, familiar

as a prayer; loud as a mountain,
glacially aware. You can never hear

how we sowed years into sand
like water picked by hand.

We carried ourselves up, down
with one foot always falling

again, again,
again

again



again

a knock at every door;
we were promised

an answer in the wood,
the root, or in the moving

and there isn't
any secret but living"
 you answered,

like you were always there.
Now weeks flood days
from second hands

pushing on walls
like               glass,
like urgent glass

we plough a quiet
canyon
for your enormity

10/04/2023

Posted on 10/04/2023
Copyright © 2024 Matthew Zangen