i will stop my mouth with poems, eat through continents and centuries shovelling hungry words like a dog hunkered over scrapings so when the walls are too close to speak this awkward now words like broken teeth and shards of poems will fall from my mouth impersonal, fragments of snow and bone and flowers…
some days it’s a long walk to remembering, (berg wind breath down my neck), slow to start the journey when i’ve forgotten that we forget. somewhere beyond the desert a butterfly unfurls her wings and here at the edge of the ocean the wind begins to sing. through the night i hear it calling…
deep in the valley i hear my daughters’ laughter clear as light amongst the shadows of trees. here, sun warm and drunk on butterfly beauty i catch the sigh that has held me breathless and alone for days and gift it to the waiting wind.