Thursday

sunrise through a latticed fence
I let go
of the big picture

Wednesday

pull me to the delta
let's greet the standing water
with our skin

Sunday

should I stand here
still
as your absence bends the dusk
into darker 
and darker 
hues

Saturday

a rush 
of blood
a rush 
of vowels
a rush of 
tongue tied
tenderness

Friday

day dwells deeper in the echo of hours
solstice stretching light

Thursday

birds 
sewing songs 
into the quavering sky 
a baroque burst of sound 
detailed and disparate

Wednesday

before four
a soundscape of birdsong
gives depth
to the dark
silhouette of trees

Tuesday

etched in the perspex
signs of life
reminding me a window
is still a wall

Monday

Sunday


hemming the fabric 
of her young tongue
to an 
old 
ghost's throat
words starburst 
backwards

Saturday

we'll meet
in the fingertips of trees
in the axil of a leaf
in a different season
settling