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
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.