poem 43 of a poem a day for 2012

what box, Pandora 

standing 

where I lie 

someone 

asked

does it rain enough here

too much maybe, that's clear

my garden is always wet near

the mold of my lost chances 

hope

I try and hold,and explain

a true random dances and

finds out where I live

why I bleed the quiet like a sieve

faith

why I, in hushed blanket regards 

cover all my payments in full, for sin

and stick letterhead of noticed shards 

in the ripe of empty mailboxes again

charity

asking

anyone 

where I lie

to stand

again

EJR (c)