every morning

a poem about love, I think

she rises // cracking night’s fragile abysses // hanging a song in the dawn air // solemn and hushed // the gossip of a bee on a tulip // wilting // but still bright with blood // like a body fresh on the gallows

and me // i know all about love // the way it takes you // sometimes like moss on the lee of an old oak // patient and soft // like a coffin of lace // and sometimes from the inside out // like a broken artery // pale and staggering // nearly blind from the shock of all that once-narrowed life // suddenly rushing into you