I make you a cup of
sweet tea.
Milky hemlocks wave in
my garden.
A late autumnal afternoon settles on
my skin.
Like a soft shroud on the carcass of a
child unborn.
Mossy green fishes swim in
your eyes
from a summer whose shadows have
long withered.
Each fish in your eye is
a monster.
They devour your stories
my memories
our regrets.
I make another cup of
sweet tea.
We keep sitting in the late
autumnal afternoon.
In you,
each fish drowns.
In me,
a new hemlock grove raises its head.
sweet tea.
Milky hemlocks wave in
my garden.
A late autumnal afternoon settles on
my skin.
Like a soft shroud on the carcass of a
child unborn.
Mossy green fishes swim in
your eyes
from a summer whose shadows have
long withered.
Each fish in your eye is
a monster.
They devour your stories
my memories
our regrets.
I make another cup of
sweet tea.
We keep sitting in the late
autumnal afternoon.
In you,
each fish drowns.
In me,
a new hemlock grove raises its head.