Invisible letters,
which never blessed
your hands, were
drafted on the night
when you first wept.
Her words were branded
upon you cheek
during the penultimate
painful yet powerful push.
Listen to your heartbeat;
its pulse is her precept,
offered up to you.
pale pearls,
like muted moons,
beam beneath coffee curls,
as a mellifluous voice croons
old tunes
hiding under tables,
behind windows on beds,
face to the floor
because there is nothing above you,
hands together,
staring at dirt
Letter in your little lair, come caress my
fingers. Whisper your words, soaked in
oceans wider than my wounds.
Swans on sorry silver, flap off into this night
of Nyx. Seek out the hungry thumbs that
gave you flight and love them once again.
sundry folly 