two postage stamps , leaving
dark moon’s daunting eye
, black sky’s amphora of weather
, the shock of cold birds
sweeping by \ this winter air
, my frozen veins
the afterlife trickles in
a leaf \ a butterfly , rotting
on the ground \ the slanted sun
like a dog’s weak ankle
\ bent , bruised , licking
its wound \ so much pain
reserved for eternity
us , carriers of breath touching
air , like a fragrance or
a quiver , the slowness of
wings , or a gesture : if only
to erase your tantalizing scent
from the soiled sheets
your eyes , two postage stamps
, leaving \ the trail of your
handprints \ like sign language
across the unmade bed
: you changed your dream
your dream changed you
this fatigue , tired as the world
\ flimsy heart about to splinter
\ winter’s offering
, clouds hanging \ like
broken men
, if it doesn’t rain …
©2021 DAH All rights reserved.
DAH is a multiple Pushcart Prize and Best Of The Net nominee, and the author of nine books of poetry. DAH lives in Berkeley, California, where he is working on his tenth poetry collection, while simultaneously working on his first collection of short fiction and his first novel.