The end.

The sky collapsed
over our heads

and a starling
found her way

into my smile.

A poem struggles itself out

as I swallow away
the tightness in my throat,

breathe my way through
this closed in chest

a poem finds a way out,
only to collapse

at your feet, where
you will undoubtedly

step on it-
on your way

to protect the one
you just gave birth to. 

Backyards

You keep finding flowers

in your backyard.

I keep finding seeds 

in my hand, 

my backyard-

empty.

Every poem I write is a trap 

I can't get loose from.

Moth Wings

At night, two moths
dance around my lamp.


Their wings beat against
each other and in that collide
the air between them 


begins to sigh. Light 
flickers as night 
begins to swim away.


When morning steps in,
tiny moth wings decorate 
my hard floor. 


Their withering brown 
wings drift in circles
around my feet.