almost heaven
the cranberries fold into themselves,
over and under,
carry the glands of an ocean inside of them.
heaven is a place where the heart does not dance like a rifle.
the mud spits onto the boardwalk
and ruins the homes of the caddisflies.
heaven renders the river speechless.
the mountains scowl back at the scrutiny of the long fog &
the cranberries crochet a crimson bed over the centuries.
heaven is the place where your spine meets the piano pressing
of my thumbs,
where the scars fade out like the redbelly trout
burying her body in the rich black heavy
of this wicked water.
over and under,
carry the glands of an ocean inside of them.
heaven is a place where the heart does not dance like a rifle.
the mud spits onto the boardwalk
and ruins the homes of the caddisflies.
heaven renders the river speechless.
the mountains scowl back at the scrutiny of the long fog &
the cranberries crochet a crimson bed over the centuries.
heaven is the place where your spine meets the piano pressing
of my thumbs,
where the scars fade out like the redbelly trout
burying her body in the rich black heavy
of this wicked water.