that night I read your note
your words
your song
and knew it was the butterfly
still chasing the raven;
who, with her heart caught in his mouth
sees the ground and fears the fall
from his lonely perch;
so drops the heart she gave to him
and doesn't even see it
fallen;
there's her body
but out of reach, this heart
cannot be joined with her again
and ravens always crush what they catch.
the heart is his forever...
there under stars
and in our eyes,
you held me close and
kissed my eyes,
"I'm ready."
without demand I hoped;
loving my raven free,
remembering
raven drops these hearts
when they taste of fear.
but he forgets
and takes hers, new again
and this could go forever...

or do you?
you can feel it
when it fills you
and then it spills you
on a page
like life over-run
with nowhere to go
and then it's done.
look down and see
words arranged like
turmoil, a mess.
do I dare pass it on
or even read it?
some do.
they're poets.

my dad would say,
I was found under a rock.
worse things have happened.
there's life down there
we forget to see,
important work
to us all.
so maybe I count all the more
because of my
*****
creepy
crawly
grunge-eating
tiny
wet
ugly
crowded
fight­-for-survival
origin.
I'd say
I came to life
prepared.