morning fades
into early afternoon

you're asleep
in the next room
one hand folded over,
fingers touching
the inside
of your hidden palm

somewhere
a voice laughs
spilling life into
the restless sun

the flowers
that your mother gave me
wilting on the corner table

summer pulls
the curling
length
of her hair

leaves whisper
with a blossomed
voice

tonight the moon
has a fingernail's
edge

summer
turns with
the aging leaves

she carries
her days
on the bend
of her shoulder

the drifting
weight of the morning
curls with the smoke
of her cigarette

your hands in
the breathing quiet

darkness softens
grey into
the hidden corners

the new morning rises
pale and
soft bellied

dull pink rises
over the growing
weight
of the houses

between
the quiet hours
the morning glories
close their petals
against the evening
rain

rain again tonight.
light scatters
on the  pavement
like glass

i remember
the broad
curve of the river
keeping time
with the windows
of the train

i watched you
watch the water pass,
one palm curled
around the shadow
of your wrist

i was waiting then, too

your hands grow
heavy in the half light
i liked the way
the passing silence
of the hours
curled shadows
across the lines
of your face

i don't remember
the sound
of your voice anymore
just the soft
sighing rattle
of your chest
as the sun
slowly shapes
its fingers,
my coffee
growing colder
on the kitchen table

together
we move through
the tall pines

he tells me
of the bad days
his words reaching
through the light
of an early autumn

there is a need here
in the pale shadows

the new morning
rots like an open fruit

an empty morning

your pillow
how you left it
curled under
on the edge

i remind myself
to think of you
in the new silence

the cat watching
with the small
movements
of a ghost

chunks of ***** snow
lie on the side of the road
like roadkill
there are no more
geese in the duck pond
the water lies still
foggy mirror
reflecting the trees
in dull regard

summer ages with
a sudden hour
thin and
sun-softened

words follow
like leaves
each their own
separate turning

my sister tells me
what i don't remember

morning softens
bleeding into
a new light

and she begins
again

summer grass folded
like faded paper
under the heavy frost

your cat sitting
at the window
watching the winter birds

cold water
brushes
the back of my hand

slowly like
a thought turning
it begins to rain