I. It hurts

Take me over there
before I bleed everything out:
my violence, my hates, my loves, my light

II. Cosmic interlude

You are not your blood
your bones, your feathers, your eyes
says the vulture to the dead robin in the road

III. You are here

My hand can not draw the face that I want
I forgot what you look like
My old hand draws a sun and a tree

IV. The riddle

Beneath the ground there is always a sound
Somebody is always eating; somebody is always breathing
Who is it?

VI. Silence by the tree

I will empty myself out over there
Don’t deny me the pain of surrender
Bury these things with the worms and the stones

[ Was originally published online in Pankhearst’s Fresh ]