An ace of spades lies on your desk Pick it up Press it close to your chest Now close your eyes count down from 3 s l o w sweat beads f a l l Your chest thunders in tune to phantom racehorses before s t i l l n e s s The spade m e l d s- paper tattoo on cool skin Wet. Clinging to the top layer little hairs rise for final goodbyes you pass the silent tension into nothing- quiet as a stone on the forest floor You breathe through seasons no asks Until the till B r e a k s soil Wakes in eyes cracking open f i l l e d with light Raw wild honey simmering to blossom to see
Layered Fragments, Becoming Whole 