you hold me anyway
and in a way that I oblige–
I am blindfolded,
only feeling

the way the soil holds the bones
of those we’ve learned to mourn
in private:
eternally and quiet
with an airy tightness and security
like the rosary barbs the
knuckles when it’s altar
or when it’s storm and I’m all fist
the way the heavens hold the pious,
the mob holds the riot,
the way the ocean holds all that
falls below that deep blue
surge of sea.

squall hits and I
drag you under to show
what made me.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: