1138

Feb 1

dried blood
under
the skin
now you’re worried
you’ll stain your sheets

you take off your
robe of thorns
gaze into the waves

a deer runs beside you

there’s a brief
eclipse of wonder
and longing
for something
that once had your name

your daughter asks
if it’s night
and you say
a thousand miles
away

are you fading?

1139