Bite my tongue to pieces,
I smile behind bloodred lips ,
Does the sweet scarlet curve entice you, my love?
My gold light under your cold sight eclipsed,
.
Have I made myself palatable enough
To be consumed?
Or does my bleeding flesh pollute, too pungent and sour
For the likes of your gluttonous love to devour

I don't know how to end it but I love a new start,
Devoted and lost, homelessness of the heart

'I was beautiful once,'
    she said,
                  her weathered hands mending another torn patch on an old travelling cloak;

"It was good in its own way, I suppose,
    But it no longer had use for me.
...
I wore the beauty over my shoulders like
  A second skin,
          like a gifted jacket
                                 which I one day outgrew.
...
My interests turned to other purposes,
          And she was tucked away alongside the other tokens of my youth"

She stood, shaking out the quilt on her lap
     which flared in kaleidoscopic colour -
an intricate map
                     of tiny knots and stitches which had layered over years of constant mending,


"I make my own clothes now"







.

Maybe you called my name
( in hundreds of languages I couldn't speak, )
Or maybe
You said nothing at all
.
Maybe your love was so incomprehensibly encompassing I could not tell the difference between it and the very air I breathe -

Or maybe

It was comprehensively small

It rained today,
The first rain in forever.
It smelled nice;
A great wet sigh of relief

I didn't miss it until today-
When the raw thunder rolled over my back
And down my pinkened cheeks
When the crisp grass softened
And mists poured thickly through the rippling trees
That pulls over the sky like white sheets
Tucking us in to the earth; soft and small and damp and sweet

But maybe tonight, the pattering tap
Will pull me so softly
To sleep

What is life if not an excuse to love a little longer

What does it mean to remember?
And what does remembering mean
The days as they pass are fleeting
And some things grow gentler unseen

Snow melts
To soften and nourish the earth
And leave tender spaces
For the young things to bloom

And the roses that lay
Untouched on this splintered land
Still bloom, still bloom
As they bloomed before
In the day