(no subject)
when i buried my guns and shields in the woods
i didn't think i'd go looking for them again but
that was before things started to bloom. now every
night up through palm sunday blossoms and dirt
i hear their siren song float through my window
like dreams i forgot to have. sometimes i try
to salvage their words but they fade so quickly
i can only remember why i put them out there:
you only get weapons for battles that end;
for decades of war you run with your friends.
now in the silence of dawn and during thunderstorm warnings
i envision them all as we parted that morning:
i hear them building sounds and waving flags,
i remember their footsteps on the stairs,
i remember their june arrivals,
i remember her august hair.