send her off to the woods
and let her know the hum of the cicada
and the rhythm of the rain
and how it feels to be silent but not really.
make her see the forest
and see how she is not important
and that in the grand scheme of things
and in the midst of the wrath of mother nature
she is nothing,
and that is okay.
take her out there and leave her
so she may learn and live and grow
so she can feel herself in the earth
so she may tread silently
without even thinking about it.

stars above me and
stars below flicker as well
a baby cries out

honking noisy geese
watch from the roadside and wait
the new shoots poke up

you danced with me
upon the floorboards
near the worn out
                        tired old
                              dining room table.

           you sat me on
   the beat up
knife-marked
            kitchen counter
and kissed me on the cheek.

i held you on the
                  shabby
threadbare
             blankets of my bed
late that night.

you didn't need anything then.
you need
                  even
                           less
                                  now.

you're trying to chip away at my stony exterior, you said.
there's no gold under there.
i am **** through and through.

sorry.

i thought my salvation was in your arms
but your body and blood are not holy
they are human

there is no resurrection in your kiss
i would prefer bread and wine
at least they don't stink of cigarettes