Friday, March 24, 2017

what can be said about the heavy snow and conversations 
weighted on eyelashes?
what can be said about the red stripe scar of forgiveness 
and how it itches with the healing, 
how it aches with the changing of the seasons and
how it burns, still, of course.

relearn how to rehold hands like a language 
grown rusty without use, feel the way the tongue fumbles 
over words. 
how new love 
is a combination of old love
rearranged into new shapes. 

how i introduce my eyes to a pair of folded
round glasses on the bedstand, 
how i know it is arriving, 
how i knew it must.

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