Today, they say
cherish it, put it to your lips
like a goblet of red wine
and drink.

Always hold your hand out
to your words
as if you were tending
to a wounded bird.

Fragility

Fragility

Finally

The sun will sing
but you will always want
the moon’s voice.
Nothing else puts you to sleep.

Today, you want to
wrap it in your grandmother’s
red handkerchief, put it inside
the pocket of your mother’s torn jeans

Because you live best when you live vicariously

Today, though
is not quite vicarious;
your dispossession will only
draw you closer.

Yet you let yourself recede from sight
while consciously watching

watching

watching

silent shadows take refuge under
a sycamore tree.
The leaves leave patterns on your face.