, , , , , , , ,

I shall tender
these moments –
as cedar carved to pen
as ached beneath the threat
an evening flame
I shall cleave your name
from everything –
shall find you everywhere
a part of me
ten thousand more
than claimed

I shall wait the dusk
to falter –
rings of smoke to dissipate
evidence of story
you were here
and I
a moment fell into
a smudge between the lines
take me now
I’ve nothing left
to fear

. . .