Afternoon – Page 57

reaching for you as
just beyond my memory
you slip from my grasp
–
withered leaves-
parched soil runs
between my fingers

an aging pen knife
coaxes an old fisherman
from a block of wood
–
midday rain-
an empty chrysalis
among the milkweed

freshly turned earth falls
from the back of my shovel
burying the light
–
overcast skies-
a tenuous flame
turns to smoke

my head on your thigh
searching for divinity
in a sunflower
–
crimson booms
stain the pallid
melting snow

melting chips of ice
droplets chase my finger down
the small of your back
–
a distant tor-
morning dew bends
the desert grass

the hum of the road
whispering it’s lullaby
rocking me to sleep
–
empty conch shells-
a rush of warm surf
overcomes me

The sun sinking low
With only a few breaths left
I’m not wasting them
–
midnight-
skinny dipping
without a care

staring at myself
the mirror reflecting my
wasted innocence
–
shoeless-
a ragged doll
on dusty road

a banging screen door
the ghosts of conversations
echo in the wind
–
merciless sun –
the empty ring
of wind chimes

every nerve exposed-
in the comfort of her mind
she shuts out the world
–
long afternoon shadows-
an old rocking horse
threadbare and faded