Just before dawn, we feel
the pull of the moon’s fingers,
tracing splinters across the ceiling. Tighten
their grip and start slipping, burning
trenches in the air
above our heads.
I came to this place
Alone with nothing more
than two decades of experience
in breathing, and a bucket
of water where my blood should be; my veins
are garden hoses.
Can someone tell me
What I’ve learned?
Kiss the skin from my bones.
Posted in her musings | 6 Comments »
