July 24, 2002


wind barely moves
tattered blue drapes
remind me
that nothing
is still
in time

going away,
her footprint
in grey carpet
lifts and fades
three steps
from now

night is charged
ripples displeasure
the neighbor
on the phone
says a big storm
is on the way

Back from rehab
four weeks,
he knows storms,
been home
too much,
I've started
to look for
in his hands

you come/go
and the wind
moves us,
I reach back
for you.
Hold me.

No comments: