Wakefulness

Guardian3

The wind hurries a ragged
leaf across the lawn as rain begins
to fall. Outside, in your stairwell,
the small shriveled corpse of a frog lies
exposed. You lean
toward the window and feel some
tenderness.

And what if those
words, like unwanted guests, come creeping
into the room at night.
Love hunched in your chair, fear
propped on one shoulder against
your door frame. So what?

In the dark you still
turn to another and say, “I don’t know”.
As if to utter
a spell that might open
your clenched hands.

10 thoughts on “Wakefulness

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