She shivers as he puts his hand on her forehead.

Ma, you have a fever, he says
and pulls up her blanket.

She closes her eyes to hold back tears.

it's your touch, son, her lips hardly move,
like rain on my arid heart, long awaited,

streams of films roll in her head,
the baby, skin of her skin, blood of her blood,
the umbilical cord never separated,
severed as the baby grew up,
a man of another woman,
the expanding distance
huddling all those cuddles into memories.

It's your touch, my son, it heals.

The son rises to call a doctor.

She knows she has no fever,
only pains of sweet memories.

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee.
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.

I am sad today
It is not from love
But my family
What could they be doing?
Saying?
Without me being there?
There they are, far away,
And I here, so lonely
I want to cry, I cry in silence

My dear mother, how could she be doing?
My siblings, what could they be fighting over?
I don't want them to think of me
Or that they miss me
I only want their company and warmness

The bread is soaked in coffee
And we spend time together
Till we part away to dream

A *** of water is boiled
With some rice
We add cinnamon, milk and sugar
When everything is ready we wet the bread in it
And we all spend time together on the sweet morning
And from there we part ways until convening later in the day or night
To be a family again.

That is why I am sad,
I sleep and wake
The night and day
And it's only me
There is no rice,
No tea or coffee
Or the warmness of my family

I become saddened

Indian pipes rise ghostly
from ancient compost
of needled tears shed
white bells corpse-silent
shunning Light’s vital touch
sleeping instead in symbiotic beds
of gracious hosts, who in turn
kiss the feet of living Giants
lushly burning gilded rays
to fuel their green economy

Somewhere
in a dream
I gaze at sadness
      inside the folds
              of soft suede
     in hues of earth,
in its darkest shades
  and up surges longing,
breaking out
  breaking free
    a catharsis of emotions
rushing stormy
through me
Bursting in my veins,
now a river of tides
    from the swirl
               in my brain
      to the swell
of my thighs
and every inch
            of skin
aches with want
for a lost, ancient treasure
and I wonder
how ties
supposed to bind
were meant
     to be severed
for I am stuck
in this limbo
this dance
        between stars  
as the pain
in the staying
makes room
for new scars
and I'm thinking
that vows made
sometimes need
to be broken
before the soul
dies
in dark silence,
inner
   words
         never
   spoken

the distance
between obsession and obligation
can be amazingly
short