#20
candlelight isn't
ever enough to see where
to cut the bodies.
just think, type, submit.
every poem is anonymous.
the ancient Norse Gods
never died. They knock on doors
mid-week, hammer in
rainstorms, burst into
crowsong at shiny things or
when a person dies.
at
1:01 PM
i struggled to reach
you, but the silence piled on
itself-- heavy, and cold.
at
7:47 AM
she had a blue dress
on the ground with sticks and leaves
me breathless, watching.
at
11:47 PM