April 2, 2012

poem 114 of a poem a day for 2012 (NaPoWriMo2)


staining the exits

the house is all ghosts
and no bones
as if pall-bearing death itself
will watch the wind all day
take my breath into
the quiet that tapping keys
gives birth to

my every unknown
my every outcome
my every love
my every stone
thrown in wishes
at the drawn end of a well
where the Moon wears
what time I spend looking
at Her out through the window

every vine
every unfurl
every climb
in the damp decay
of Winter's corpse
are pieces of bloom
are bright vapors
caught just right
in the sky's paved
spread of Her light

shadows can cloak
with petals falling
before the leaves grow in
what we ache for
leaving lip prints for who
we want to awaken next to
on the other side
of glass
on the other side
of night
on the other side
of not alone
when we rise
just to fall
back again
to where memory
is that warm body
holding you close to
every end of time

EJR ©

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