Sunday, November 27, 2011

Falling in

Yellow leaves swamping the driveway
quick hikes in the setting sun
and cool nights reading about the west
boil a feeling that makes me want to
rip out my hair and
leave marks in the wall
grab on and hold tight
until it lies still as a rotten stump

But I see wheat hair
lake-clear eyes
legs strong living branches
voice an energetic wind
words staggered as an outcropping

I fall into the feeling

your hands on my face

fingers like twigs pulling at my hair

and sink into you like quicksand

More afraid of letting go than falling


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