i'm late for the river

passing through

the front door gasps open
with the exhale of tragedy
in our little house city. shutterless
eyes empty of eyes.

**

vulnerability

your finger
counts my pulse.
your eyes are palindromes
incising monopoly and
i am a stopped sink
unstopped--stopping.

**

new house

i will lift the sheet
if you promise
to gaze without flinching,
to look while touching
deeply, to count scars
with your eyes,
to walk in as far as i am able
to understand, to absorb
the gust of exposure
& the geists that follow
that words cannot cage,
to fold my face
in a gentle dogear,
to return again, heavy with
rain, to carry in
your boots--
an offering: an arm
around your ghosts,
all smiling, in
my wet uncharted
newness beyond
ending and ending.