The Joy That Isn't Shared

My Objects Dream And Wear New Costumes, Compelled To, It Seems, By All The Words In My Hands And The Sea That Bangs In My Throat.

I Hoard Books. They Are People Who Do Not Leave.

The Fish Are Naked. The Fish Are Always Awake. They Are The Color Of Old Spoons And Caramels.

Today God Gives Milk / And I Have The Pail.

Then All This Became History. Your Hand Found Mine. Life Rushed To My Fingers Like A Blood Clot. Oh, My Carpenter, The Fingers Are Rebuilt. They Dance With Yours.