the sieve and the sand

trees have blossomed
bursting
like daytime fireworks
pink and white
frozen, but swaying sweetly
with the wind.

i know things have been rough between us lately, what with “global warming” and all. on behalf of humanity, i apologize. i’m sorry. i’m sorry we use energy inefficiently and i’m sorry we’re not smart enough or concerned enough or motivated enough to develop something better. but please, don’t leave so soon. stay awhile longer. bless us with your frosty breath and let me awake to icy roads and malformed snowmen. give us at least one goddamn snow day. (it’s one of the few perks of my job.)

before we fall asleep
you look out the window and notice
the first snow of winter
finally falling
it thinly coats cars trees streets

and before we fall asleep
i pray it will stick till morning
so i can see the paw prints
of the black cat i just saw
running along the fence.

a crow alights
upon the church’s skyward cross–
leaves scrape cobblestone.

fuck you, he said
then dissolved into
the rainy evening.

she shut the door like thunder
then fell against it,
melting into the floor.

eyes clouded with tears,
head in hands flashing hate,
she prayed to God:

Jesus, why is this so fucking hard?
let me be stone. let me be the ground.
solid. unfeeling. undisturbed. Jesus,
why is this so fucking hard? just
get me the hell out
of this body.

having had enough warmth
i welcome winter’s arresting breath
let me leave the windows open
go to sleep shivering
wake up beneath covers soft as God’s lips
having held the one i love throughout the night.

among the purple
blossoms: one
ringed with white.

i would.

(but it’s spring.)

shoveled soil,
lifted,
reveals pale worms.

i took a video
of the mulberry branches’
shadows swaying.

my breath rises
through the latticed branches
to the waxing gibbous.

she opens the envelope
replaces it on the table
closes eyes inhales
the words
written in cursive recognizably
rising and falling
written in syntax matching
the map of her thoughts limited by
blue lines blue lies
and all she ever hoped
you might say.

christmas lights burn
quietly
into mid-january.

i watch the moon
eclipse–
you sleep somewhere beneath.

strings of light
we forgot to turn off–
deflated santa in a heap.

i called you
two minutes from home
because the moon,
low and orange and gigantic on the horizon,
was worth seeing

when you couldn’t see it
you told me to pick you up
so i pulled over
you stepped in
and we drove

no longer visible from
where i had called you
we continued to drive
over the bridge
into the next town–
to no avail–
nothing lay on the horizon anymore

we marveled
at the speed of the moon
(but really, the speed of the earth’s rotation)
kissed beneath nothing but a street lamp
and drove home.

the leaves’ shadows
shift across the red brick wall–
an unseasonal warmth.

make a pile of
the wrapping paper
the faux snow
the illuminated reindeer
the green and red hershey’s kisses
the oversized candy canes
the inflatable snow globe with frosty and his wintry wenches
and send it all up
in a yuletide blaze.

in the ashes
plant
dessicated corn stalks
uncarved pumpkins
bulbous gourds
racist pilgrims and noble savages
turkeys unaware of their imminent demise
and let them all reclaim their fucking month.

a pumpkin’s grin
sags with mold–
cold air stings cheeks.

in dim lights
with repeating chords softly reverberating
the pastor led a prayer
instructed us to breathe in, deeply,
you whispered into my ear
“think of a smile”
(an inside joke)
but i did
then smiled
only partly because of the joke
but mostly because
you had just whispered into my ear
while I was breathing in
during a prayer
with repeating chords reverberating softly
in lights, dimmed.

in the garden
a fallen tombstone–
foam painted grey.

there are at least 2,752
reasons to remember
never let our defenses down
to enlist to prevent to
cock the gun pull the trigger
let the end justify the means
wave flags from every window to
call for the heads of those who plotted
who plot who still thirst and hunger and strap
bombs to themselves in the name of some god
or another

but
there are at least 2,752
reasons to remember
that when the call devolves from
cry to battle cry death leads
to death
why can’t we remember it’s fiction that
defeated factions fall into submission and forget
their pain their hatred their revenge for the sake of safety?
why can’t we remember the man who’s lost his brother the mother
who’s lost her son the lover who’s lost love by bomb or bullet
breathes eats drinks
sleeps thinks speaks death?

so
let’s love without hatred
live without revenge
remember the lives of those we loved
without forgetting we just can’t go on
this way

i was gone july
but have since returned;
so i’ve no excuse…

the smell of rain-
soaked soil;
the door’s swinging sound.

the firefly lights
then fades–
we wait.

on the butterfly bush:
four
butterflies