In the ache—

Small tortures

Cut from the throat

A voice, a moment,

Much like ice
But summer fell free

In a patch of wildflower & mourning light

I couldn’t catch my breath

And really, who does not want to

Be left breathless

By the beauty of this life
I have a worm

Burrowing through my mind:

It carries winter’s darkness

And it is rushing to the door!

And I, small against this power,

I am holding, steady, against

This losing war
Summer slips smoothly

Skin to sky

For one moment

I close my eyes—
I savour a moment fading

Written on the parchment of

My brittle soul. I am whole.


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