summer ages with
a sudden hour
thin and
sun-softened

words follow
like leaves
each their own
separate turning

my sister tells me
what i don't remember

morning softens
bleeding into
a new light

and she begins
again

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night in the long hours
quiet like the inside
of a suitcase

somewhere
a fire is burning

darkness moves
a breath against
the heavy wall
blind and
pillow soft

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it rained
sometime
in the passing night

leaves rustle
wet shadows taken
by a sudden current

sleep
follows me
like a footstep

morning curls
heavy in
the shadows
of the grass

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the lights move
yellow along
the curves
of your face

soft voices
wait
in the rising
fall of your chest

briefly our shoulders
touch

in sleep
your hand
flutters like
a dying bird

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there's a beauty in
her angled shoulders

between the shadows meeting
beneath the curve
of her breasts

unbroken hours
forgotten in
the narrow dark

silence moves
along the small
parts of her hands

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your hands in
the breathing quiet

darkness softens
grey into
the hidden corners

the new morning rises
pale and
soft bellied

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muted sunlight
grey against
the sleeping grass

voices falter
startled by
a new word

disappointed,
the rain bends
with a heavy breath

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morning fades
into early afternoon

you're asleep
in the next room
one hand folded over,
fingers touching
the inside
of your hidden palm

somewhere
a voice laughs
spilling life into
the restless sun

the flowers
that your mother gave me
wilting on the corner table

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small
rustle in the mid-hour

she moves
in steady comfort

bare shoulder to
restless sun

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he left again
in the early morning

sunlight touches
silver through
the heavy blinds

i clean the dishes from
the kitchen table

new shadows settle
restless bruises against
the curve of my hand

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summer grass folded
like faded paper
under the heavy frost

your cat sitting
at the window
watching the winter birds

cold water
brushes
the back of my hand

slowly like
a thought turning
it begins to rain

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an empty morning

your pillow
how you left it
curled under
on the edge

i remind myself
to think of you
in the new silence

the cat watching
with the small
movements
of a ghost

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together 
we move through
the tall pines

he tells me
of the bad days
his words reaching
through the light
of an early autumn

there is a need here
in the pale shadows

the new morning
rots like an open fruit

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