22

I had hardly begun to carry your cloud

Numen for the masses

Scarcely given

I wrap my tree branched arms

Around your ears

Holding them silent

I could not bare the distance

I’ve a change at luck

And had my fill of rivers

So I buried birds in my belly

Acorns in my womb

In hopes they grow new skin like snakes

So, choked we must be

A construction of sails

Wind forged and torn

Glistening paint to cover

Our broken well

Wailing, ill received

Blanketed window cliffs

In exchange for seas