Boy Waking Eyelashes Stroke my chest I know he breathes Leaving His waving Hacks and strokes my roots I know he’ll be a house again Bold and reaching for his place A yard again Lantana tangling like our history

Something died between us last night A spark that once flickered turned to dust It was Good Friday too and we hardly noticed the loss of what was once just ours and what is now every tale of missed passion Our…