magpies
2006-04-19 3:13 p.m.
i have pulled each word out, caught it,the corners of my lips tinged,
have made correction, have paused, have retraced my steps in questioning, have arched my back in signifying their new meaning:
(i remember him, a warmth in early morning, a body heat that will haunt me daily, will measure out these uncanny times of being open,
i recall him in scents, in the earth, in my surrogate children, now rising up to be replenished, and the way that sailors speak of the ocean, i can tell his body by the soil, both of us dust, both of us newly planted.)