Monica Lacey


January 2 a.m.
somehow no wind

I hide my face from stone angels
waiting to hold me when I die
but I live I still live

let me fall through the spaces
in what I believe
you don’t see what I see

time has no meaning down here
remember wet sand bare feet
the river telling stories

trees gathering rust in the winter water
nearer to me
than what went wrong

I wanted it to hold
grow old enfolded in your hand
but the night found us

let me let go
whisper a few promises
wishes just get sorry and sad

cities fall
leaves fall
angels break apart and fall to earth

we can and do
change our shape
always too late

choice is a miracle
stars a miracle
my footprints a miracle

warm hand touch
mouth touch eyes
leave touch

← Older Newer →