At All

How long’s it been, baby
Since a wind came to your window
A breeze of the bilowy sort
And though it arrived loud
Quieted you?

How many days, mama
The fog, it clogged your lungs
A freedive into the depths
And through its grey unknown
Empowered you?

On the Eve

serpent at My ankles, always
And nighttime evermore
“She should have known better,” they’ll say about Me
She, Me and the similar others
significant others who also ought
Now nonetheless wise to the slither

Wedded

Unending morning, I Am
Forever working out the pain
Unweaving the lies from the hours of you

The promise, I Am
As yet undelivered to the ether
Present and unstoppable now, you hearts

Wedded, I Am
To the heavens, to the Everywhere
Moving, pondering all of you ages, We

She Of The Field

Her stripes will never be white-washed
Her rudbeckia sun
Will never be tilled under
Love!
What cheapness have you done?

Your patch of earth, a briar field
Tall thistle lines your way
When beauty comes to ask you
Dear!
What answer will you say?

Justice

The Sun
Has no explaining
Nor does the long grass
The angle
The path
They’ve permitted

Justice
I won’t require
Or hold feet to the fire
Of the Squirrel
Stealing, running
From my garden