Remedy

My hair

lofts in the wind

like a wing

now

can my mind take flight to match it

can I spin up some poetry

out from the forest 

where the leaves hang 

like tears

from the sleeping branches.

All these days 

I am trying to walk fast

to leave myself behind 

as with the shadow woman 

who follows me everywhere

I can’t cut the thread

to abandon the susurration

of the inner voice

but sometimes the stillness

can fold around me 

like a soft bed 

and rock me into peace. 

Here in the boneyard

where the dead rest

the words come easier 

they come 

out of the cradle of the 

dull stone and grass 

sere under my feet 

and into my hands 

that I may weave them into 

a remedy for suffering.

Once I am 

held in the house

where it is warm 

I start to dream of false

bombs and black snakes

pouring out of the bin

dripping with resin

then I lie into the night

eyes open 

waiting for the dawn 

to crawl in.