7....

Grandmother
I haven't been home for years
feet dragging
against
a
cold
muddy
floor
shards
of
glass
fine
pure
slitting up
I press
my fingers
to the cut
it rocks
again

Press
Open
speak
the words
they do not
haunt
me anymore
it is
the vision
of your face
swarming
honey
tight
black
eyes
the heat
rages up
again
and all that steel
melts away

Knees
Quick
thumbs
and fingers
drags
over
the empty rocks
there is a tune there
shackled
to the curb
we lift
the corpse
up high
she sinks
into the chair
eyes closed
and the wandering
begins

Ornaments
Glue uneasy wrap
the puzzle comes together
crisp tree bending branch

Streamers
Little feet
pausing
on the gray
I smile
as you
stand tall
blue
over crisp
yellow
the parade
is gone now
but the band
still plays

Reverie
Click second countdown
paper the trim so empty
bowls full window closed

Ice
Netting the web deep
one heart dribbles slippery
pulling the curtain