Maybe you should cry
Try to find a voice
Hide it in your hands
Your worry, your plans
All shipwrecked on the
Big, bright west coast,
Rhyming’s easy when you’ve got
Reason. Season fading like
Like all of us, the warm glow
Of afternoon light always gets me down
Up against the wall, the well of my good
Intentions too scarcely flower and fruit,
Mostly rot and fall from the tree, never far
Farther still from where you are. Stars
Find me out, venture through the dying light to
My perch just above the roof-line, chimney height,
Hugged in branches and brambles, eating infant berries
With my cousin, imagining some foreign delicacy, places we’ll go
Some other day, but for now this one’s winding in, closing, closer, closed.
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