I hear myself
drought caught pleading
a windy cause
dry as the earth without rain
crying love
in a tongue of false thunder
while my love waits
a seeded trap
in the door of my house
a mouth full of perfect teeth
sure of their strength upon bone
waits
to swallow me whole
and pass me
as echos of shadowless laughter.
Quiet love hangs
in the door of my house
a sheet of brick-caught silk
rent in the sun.
