This aloneness
I have earned
that i sing against
and sleep with
settles in my fingertips
and leakes out
in lines

in the water
here jumps
to there
our eyes
loving
disjoint

being the same
as dat joint
a trick of the light
you in the night
being right
again

quiet now
the price of
sharply cut
flowers and the  smell
of digging

i used to know
the earth
i used to know
running it

wrapping it up
not
burning it forward
not

straight down now
just let go


Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis