life is not finished yet

this time between the times

the bones between the flesh

mute or stinking

 

another thought has come

crumpled but poised

crouching between the eyebrows

of have and had

 

slick and unyielding this

tricky business of friendship

of unposted letter-lives

hiding in lairs of uncertainty

 

where the dark and damp

find the warm and humble

sucking from the teet

of forgiveness breathing

 

toward a resolution

a day-night hour

pretends to see the unseen

tucked under a quivering branch

 

and just when the first bird

alights with song at the ready

the branch gives in and

dancing leaves meet waiting ground