[tree + magenta]
you crumble me,
leaf in palm,
my reds and veins
brittle beneath
your square fingers,
my roots digging deep
for traction,
something to keep me
standing
in the wind of your eyes,
the cold hard soil
of these occasional mornings;
i reach for love,
love, for the
tenderness that brought
me, hard acorn heart,
to bright leafing,
and now threatens
to strip me bare,
arms wide against the sky,
shedding tears
that are not rain.
29.1.03
: : :
[baby + grade]
my dreams are filled
with children,
curled fingers in my hair
and drool -
for six nights now,
and six mornings
i woke cradling
my pillow,
crooning lullabys
i've never heard.
i fear the breath
of prophesy here,
and the uphill battle
that a pregnant
woman
would never be able to fight.
steep anger
and the long slide down.
28.1.03
: : :
