map of the falling sky

she let her hair grow long this year. she wrote poetry without mention of birds or stars.

without using the words: trembling, breaking, fall, or multiply.

we grow up. we grow apart. in winter, in long years we grow out our hair.

we try writing without lies. it's harder. stark. brutal. numbing.

i want to go back. i want another chance to watch you shake

the stars from your hair.

photo 1: cari ann wayman http://www.yyellowbird.blogspot.com/ photo 2: scarabuss http://scarabuss.deviantart.com/

they might not know, i know

colored bulbs, the fat retro kind. the kind we had on our house when i was a kid. I'm standing on top of a ladder putting up christmas lights. It's south florida, the sun beats down on the side of my face. my eyes adjust to the glare. an ice cream truck turns the corner. It's the holidays.

lights thrown randomly across the bushes. I should have done this later in the day. they are plugged in but you'd never be able to tell. on or off. everything seems out of place.

at night things change. in the dark it almost seems like december. lights twinkle, stars flutter. something akin to joy rises briefly in my heart. tinsel in clumps. a homemade decoration hangs from the tree. grandmas ghost is a sparkly beaded ornament. she made one for each of us. it hangs like a mystery, a gift after so many years she's been gone.
it doesn't fit in with the others. its better because it hurts a little. everything good has to hurt a little.

I took her to dinner but all she ever ate were the mints

this slow
burden loving you

waiting
just anything
just words
just presence

her
rust and
honey
mouth

peppermint tooth paste
and bad dreams

snow falling
in
a perfect silence

but i have yet to really feel it.
this slow burden
having loved you

and i have never
seen snow
so there
is
no silence

glitterball

its a night of small revelations, night of odd comfort
im starting to love this distance
starting to feel how present you are in
it.