the power was never ours
(we stole it from the neighbors).
we took our war bonds and
food stamps
and gathered the family together
toward the bus.
once boraded we took roll.
make sure no one got left behind
waiting there
(lost and slow to tie their shoe or...)
later at the diner, i watched you break the bread.
it was so beautiful
in a sad, empathetic sort of way.
you passed around the broken basket
to the end of the table
and back again.
i didn't want to take my piece.
i wanted you to have two; one for your hunger
and one for your beauty.

you could see that it meant a lot to me.
you insisted i eat.

later, at the ice rink, i told you what was on my mind.
there were no words to pardon your reaction--
or even do it justice--
and i knew that it was good.

you invited me in from the cold
for some warm milk.

I am just paper,
Space, ink, and words,
But you are a dewdrop
Dangling from her stem,
It looks different through you,
A refracted beam
A density of color unknown and indecipherable,
Like a dried leaf in the wind
Move me,
I am a wispy imitation,
Blown by you, Zephyr
Take me.

Tears all dried and salty
I am uninspired
But you are rain,
Pitter-patter and replenish.
Puddle-up and reservoir
I’ll need you.

A page above tonguing flame,
I curl and crumble,
Make myth of me,
Give me grace to rise
And ask the night for morning.

-*BRD