it seems
as I’ve forgotten
the hurting side of me
bent in place
a damn disgrace
now a mystery
folded into shadow
and pressed against the boards
a whole lot more than memory
was trapped
beneath that door
so hurry now
the day is waning
and feathers chase the night
dragons cry
a liquid sky –
of whispers bearing light

(as tender fall
our wishes all around)

. . .