you offer only silence
in this waking memory
words would drip off my fingertips
in bloody rivulets from an open wound
but no more

like winged skeletons
words strike the mirror
pressed and willing in the bare light
not even the mirror cracks
can cut through the callus

hold my hand through this nightless revery
cast the shadows in the doorway
remind me please
the sky blushes pink at morning coming
wide empty fields at the highway turn

tomorrow

~

leigh-anne fraser
2016