Journal of Writing & Environment

Shadow stretching triggered the mudslides.

Out of the frame a man stands dissolving.

His delicate roots. Sewing miles at a time.

The wind blurring toward us.

Whispering galleries the invalid dancer.

By flowers, the sound. The first time.

Distorted. Threadbare linens. The infection.

Of futures. How many oceans.

To put out the brushfire. How many songs.

In the snow. Sepia toned. I am.

Opening an untidy mind.

With repentance. The unwoven half.

Going nowhere. The whole.

Of her body, baking in sugar.

I follow the shape of that t-shirt.

Stretched on her, learning her face.

As it rains. Should we be afraid.

In our winding compassion, the province.

Of stitches, to hold the blood home.