this morning running

thru dying leaf scent,
you said, you were in my dream.
we were in the underworld.
I didn’t know anyone,
but you had some friends there,
& I waited at the bar for you.
then you became an infant, & people
were holding you, saying you’d bloom

*
the vulnerability of being
a moth transforming itself
on maple tree in rain
the vulnerability of being a flower

*
tiny spiders bloom
from my water-filled hands

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s