i didn’t ask
the wind as it
clawed it’s way
across my path
whining and
snarling for
more
i left the wind to
rip apart innocent things
apart instead
i did not ask the
face of an imperfect
rose
her spiky
green collared neck
hung so low
tattered red
head a rusty
bell
trash at her waistline
no i didn’t even
ask for confirmation
from things that
don’t know
love
know you
know
this
donavan
floating along
the street
with no
place of origin
just loud enough
for me to remember you
so profoundly
with such weight
that i had to sit on
a curb
and cry with
the trash and
ants
and regret
i didn’t know
it would be so
quiet when
it arrived
that it would
soar across the
sky with such
daring grace
that it would lap
against the banks
in puppy nips
that it would
sink hotly
under
the breeze of
any old afternoon
that it would
melt along the
lip line so
slowly
i didn’t know
it would
be more than
a natural disaster
more than a
lonesome train
whistle
more than
the smell of leather
at night
more than wish
donation
more than
crooked teeth
sinking into
flesh
more
did you know she
was a botanist
and a librarian
even traveled the
world they said
wrote with both
hands they remarked
the hands
that never
picked us
up
again
never knew
mother
again
but amid
her scattered
belongings
when the cancer had
eaten its fill
i found the
sweet alyssum
card with
my very
childhood
picture
attached
i pluck them down
from the endless
pre-dawn pool
place them
in an old jar
watch them float lazily
(at first)
until they realize
they are trapped and
they do begin to
become frantic
they use their energy
as one to unscream until
everything vibrates
i send down
the softest
hand
let them crawl around
along the palm
until they find peace
on my lifeline
only then do i
carefully close fingers
around their light
and fling them
like lucky jacks
into another
night
