—YOU CAN SEND ME A MESSAGE IF YOU DON’T WANT TO TALK, I’LL MAKE SURE I DON’T INTERRUPT

                                           the wisdom of trees

these days, each edge frays, and i think too much, like a stoned clock staring at its struck hands, the pulse of wood too dull to detect.  there’s a vacant question for every answer, a body for every empty box, the wisdom of trees braying outside the window, stout and out of reach. so, i vow to keep you here with me, locket-sized, all your rage and flippancy in check. i’ll hold you like a just-born pup, lift you to my cheek and sing you nothing but sweet notes about tomorrow, how we’ll get there, what we’ll do when we finally have.