little voice with a
little falter

big heart knows
big sorrow

and a mother thought dead these last years
a sister same

but I guess we all keep landing
on our feet

of blood and sinew

there’s a low hum

and a rasp

a catch of breathe on the intake

valves pumping

there are four valves of the heart

the heart is a muscle

the heart is a prickly thing

of blood and sinew

exposed to air overlong

blood dries black

I’d walk 

through fields of thistle

to see your smile

sonny

sometimes

it's enough to know you're alive...
the minutest indication

sometimes

home

light spills
through windows
onto floors
of wood
of laminate
of pink tiles

air
the air feels
good

à nouveau

mon cœur est
un papillon

dans la danse de l'air
et atterrit
où elle atterrit

j’attendre
et attendre
pour elle de voler
à nouveau

~

my heart is
a butterfly

dancing in the air
and landing
where she lands

I wait
and wait
for her to fly
anew

on authority

I know I should move on.

I have; or was never stuck really

But I feel restless, fearless

and the long list of men beckons

waiting for my…

systemic aggregation

Maybe that’s why I don’t date;

too much information up front

too much thinking

not enough doing

I know I should….

…but I’ve always balked at ‘should’

hated being told what to do
how to think

If where I am feels good
why fuck with it?