the birds do not wake
but keep me up
harassing: you are not sleeping
be honest
late for the dawn
my lasting winter friend, the willow
captures the moon for a heart
i can hardly walk
knowing her fate within the hour
past the hundred rowed eclipses
sowed orchard
between me and the liquid horizon
if every one has been lifted to purgatory
and i reserved for some colder wake
reserved to remember how hands smell up close,
i accept the empty robes to pray
nothing to say i repeat
your name, not the one, but them all
a prophet once showed me this use for names
under the high beamed morning the dog and i sit
my eyes sore as a rainbow slick
she blinks slow: like this
be filled with light through warehouse panes
smeared, broad, warming pianos
where they wait
a vision come of honeycomb
quiet as it yawned awake
stocked with swarm, not from fear
but a population kept warm in dream
ceremony over i touch the willow's breastbone on my way
resting her wings, empty
but she does not weep
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