Tuesday, December 20, 2016

starfall


I tried to sound smart. “The stars are so much brighter back home.”
“I know,” you said. You looked at me as though you’d touched one. 

A black bird flies by me. So close, 
I could touch it, like your outstretched hand,
if only I could get through this fence. 

Falling is a spiritual experience. Like flying, and a poem,
it leaves me with nothing 
except the whistling air. 

“I need to write you a poem,” I say. You look at me like
you don’t understand. But I don’t know how to say it any clearer. 

Once when I was crying you told me, 
“You are enough.” This must be how that star felt
As you held her in your hand.

No comments:

Post a Comment