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come to her
to drink water
from her
cupped hands
‘is there B12
in the stream
you draw from
do I need to take
supplements
hon?’
‘arrooooooo’
the werewolf yelled
at the waxing moon
‘that werewolf done
gone vegan, hon’
I said to her
put affection
outside her door
don’t knock
just leave it
it’s nice enough
to place things
she touches her skin
I write a poem
is it possible
to happen that way?
morning sun
trying to get through the curtains
I say
‘wait for me to catch up!’
I held raindrops
I could not let them fall
like leaves
I sit them on
the ground
I wondered what
the good of it all
check
the bones
see if they
are willing
maybe it is time
to keep my love
silent
as a bird
with no song
days of illness
last longer
more frequent
now
ask God
to heal
ask the planet
to heal
ask the microbiology
inside myself
to heal
ask the Self
to heal
I am a warrior
in my
own ways
hon
some see the moon
in the blue sky
they might be
werewolves too
oh, I’m playing
John Denver
I do that sometimes
when I’m looking
for somewhere
to be
I want you to wear
the gentle weave
I have for you
like starlight
onto your skin
a place to put
a feeling
a poem
I’m like a werewolf
sulking at the moon
she taps her feet at me
so I say
‘I write romance, hon’
‘stop putting hon
on the end of all your poems
David!’ she says
there are flowers to find
on the pathway
to her heart
‘don’t pick that one
David
it’s too pretty’
she says
I am closing my windows
I am blocking the sun
she said
‘I got some poems’
I said ‘I know’
graffiti of erosion 