I can see the
Unfinished man
In pencil
That drawing that's missing
something  
The outline of you
The curves of you forming
But still not whole
Still seeing who you might be
What moves you make
I can even see where
You have been erased
Mistakes have been drawn over
Paper is worn a little
Even torn
But
I'll be patient
I'll wait
For you to fill in
Get your lines straight
For you to be complete

And
Drawn in ink

as lightning lain across the

resurrectional seasons of

sight herself...

freeing her when confined

to a stone's sleep.

three times the apparition

of her lushest garden to

bear witness to her wake.

amid the miscarriages of thunder.