Tears that fell, salt to the earth
These several years past
And still I can’t recall quite…
When did he die? Pass on?
When did I kill him,
My older brother who is younger than I.
I have to find the paper and I sigh,
“Oh yes, that’s right, I remember…
I remember.” Wash, rinse, repeat.

Daddy says some of us,
We just set with death,
Hold hands through the dying,
Pat brows with warm wet clothes
Coo inarticulate soothings to deaf ears.
Some of us, we just deal in silence soft
with tears that fall, salt to the earth.

I look about at the growing, the change,
How did I come to this place? Come to me?
Was it spring that I first stepped foot
along this path or was it fall?
Or was it that one March when
the morphine drip
drip
drip, haunted, that March when
I buried one too young too angry,
Tears falling, salt to the earth
As I patted them from his hollow cheeks,
Licked them from my own lips gone dry.

I
It should be a sin
when everything is caving in
to feel your breathe
tracing whispers long my breasts

from what seems a
million miles away

and I play

the longest day away
thinking of you.

what do I do?

how do I get to
you…when I am here
you are there

some day
maybe we will share
all our some days.

II
Little girl lost as she took you
in her arms, her fear
of the other too great.
But she does wonder
what if her heart were free
had been free and she recalls
your head in your hands
and tears…she wanted
to sooth away your tears.

One more sleep and no more to mine eyes
will sadness creep. No more will the sighs
of lilting breath belay my heart’s inner depths
for only one more day do I miss my love, bereft.

And it’s not so much my life I like
now but me, who I am, have become,
hard work having moved past passed
days of sleepwalking, going through
life unannounced but now I wallow
in my new song of I am here finally.

I sit, in the preamble of years, months,
days to come; fearless and afraid. He
feels like home, like earth and sky. He
feels sure like the other half of spirit
lost once in another life so long ago.

And I am tired of sitting, laying low.

I sit, looking at a blank screen thinking
about the months, days, things to wrap
up here, coming together quickly. And
I want things I cannot articulate but
I am here finally, I am ready to go.

Some lives but brief
in the evening meet
with few word save

goodbye
good luck
be well

if you need me
I'll be here.

In her fearless
qualm she turns
still as restless,
the inner beast stirs.

Been too long
since her blood
rushed for days,
those other crushes
crushing hard when
she was looking.

Now she's not.

Been too long
yet never
did it come quite
so soft in the stillness
of no intent
save the enjoyment
of laughter's sweetest
flush of cheeks pink
and the desire
to blush the other.

Quietly she
takes a breath.

Tomorrow as yet
she says she
will worry tomorrow
of what may come
and revel in the
briefness of today.

For in her past
she recalls
how frail the body
and quickness
of the soul to flee.

Through salt tears
she whispers
my god, my god,
take no more from me

for I connot stop...

giving.