Waking from dreams
everyone's wounds
were layered and beautiful
but bleeding
shining dark on pale
drained in the sun
dust rising to drink from these fountains
and i wasn't sure i could carry them all
back to the shade, damp, uphill, in turn
they each woke from their falls
talking nonsense
and making circles in their sentences
to convince me it was not a sign
when i begged them not to talk
as if their brains had come loose
they each sat up smiling, prophesying
only asking me,
where did I fall from,
how to climb back to the shade
or some, where to go on from now
not one needed carrying,
only, go behind me in case my blood
drips too much.
april 13, 12
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