Monday, March 13, 2006

Almost Light

There was one letter
written on a leaf,
sometime during August,
telling me about the red river,
the lack of water and the silver rocks
under the sun
like bloated fish bellies
and a new moon
We never talked because
what can a person say
to describe the way trees
or how frogs change songs
when mating

Quiet is what keeps us close
to humility,
and now that you have left,
meaning comes to me
in the form of branches
The wooden spouse
tricks the fawn into
If I am silent under
the sky,
love appears
and disappears
in morning light


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