look at me. I've ripped pages of my own diary
heavy with life
all those possessions
thoughts about death and its many sounds
on behalf of those
countless nights
you know where to go from here
unharmed
wanting to change what cannot be undone
gasping for a breath of fresh air.
your heart a ringleader of a circus
a convivial joke-teller
an absent servant.
perhaps today is your lucky day
in the right corner of your house
very soon the cherry tree will want to talk to us
I will invoke the same allergies to dust
it's middle of April
snow all around
one more line
one line for a good ending
a long, unwanted pause
