poem 8 of a poem a day for 2012

trundled wax to the June

blade
bindle
and slide
the Moon
hides inside
the corners
of the clouds
pink belly stilled
hairshirt,locket
and time-chained
stained with salt
in each reach
the tides find
how all of love's fingers
have traced
the ways home
roots
tendril
divine

inside
each kept breath
each piece molded
to fill the spaces
where words
have already
committed
a suicide
of reason
heaving
themselves
into every fire
that melts
to climb
ash fallen mist
bodies leaned
receiving

weaving
the silences
that have all
the wings here
and all the
clear paths
to all
the tucked covers
of what
morning wants
to cling to
the heavy hang
and light bouquet
twist ribboned
our sweet smells
tell,closed eye belled
what we said
in the long bends
and short turns
of how seeded
to dreams
we are
with how
our orbiting darks
seem to be
growing to ride
and petal-spark
the forests
again

EJR (c)