Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Novemberance

Foreshortened day,
unwelcome touch,
and unkind light.

I read the warnings,
count out their syllables. 

Then snow webs 
untidy, un-mappable, 
planting everywhere.

Racing, erasing my flesh, 
being, becoming my body.

_

my beautiful baby

 It has been a year. Some days it feels like yesterday, some days it feels like a distant dream of love.     There have been tears every day...