As bones stick out
of skin so slashed
she boards the bus in the rain.
He works to catch her eye
outside this silver frame
for a wave, sad smile,
a nit of goodbye
but her head captures
palm trees
cattle grazing
clothes lines with white sheets instead
of not answered prayers
sent many nights
arched to god’s open ear
words sent straight, unfortunate.
The road too open,
the road too straight,
his teeth are not
as they should be
his hair reaches like corn
his lips cracked and crooked
his sleeve torn, like the new life
he knows, so when she leaves
a cold large wet stone
weighing upon his heart
crushing and creaking
the blood of love is
like a hand forcing his head under water.
When her palm makes a sudden circle
in the bus window
a hole in the fog appears
for a second
they both see each other's tears

GO HOME