my heart
more cave and cavity now
waiting for the collapse
close the gate gentle
make it chime
close it like a delicate thing
as if just leaving
looking in
upon a sleeping child
isn’t that how hearts
should be handled
footsteps made faint
by grass
no knock required
no doorbell
rattling the rooms
just the soft cry
of a rusted hinge
the ones
who hollow you out
leave a cave
for another
to place
a candle in
walking with you
turned fields
into prairies
leaves become
same colour
as the fire
that made them fall
glass the gatekeeper
asks the sky
if they’re on the list
pirouette upon rusted blades
across scorched streets
dissolve into the spray
of their own sparks
rust and ash
pollen and snow
you’re the moth-eaten moths of memory
the torn tapestry of my life
its seams of moonlight
scars become skin
light soaked into
a longed-for letter
never sent
never written
I don’t think about the thorns
I think about the blackberries
of your love
how they reveal the labyrinths
of my fingerprints
that touches the dark
trying to find your face
summer did not live
in that summerhouse
winter and spring
braided themselves there
caves will call
to the sky
sky will become
ceiling
rings made from rainfall
sparrows dream songs
within the walls