f i s s u r e s
and (whose) fault lines
cracking open
we try to mend the damage
of our quaking lives
African sun
honed on a rasp of sky
leaking ichor
our hands are stained
with the blood of child-soldiers
she held
her daughter's lips
to a mirror
no baby's breath
bloomed in the garden
jellyfish
on the beach
at low tide
you still make me
weak in the knees
our years roll by
like runaway trains
gathering speed
the closer we come
to the end of the line
children
of war zones
silenced
with no legs to walk
along the path to peace
sun rays
palpate mossy loam
on the forest floor
a nursery log suckles fungi
oh, to wean myself
from you
this alchemy
of ripened clementines
and woodsmoke
the fragrance of my past
both curse and benediction
silences
or tirades cursed
every meal
we lost weight eating
degradation for dessert
the widow sinks
into depression's palette
her life's pigment
once the richest saffron
now Vincent's shade of blue
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