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Be kind - you're in there somewhere.

This house is full of dust.

It is doubtful it will ever be clean.

I sweep and sweep but

it penetrates every crack and crevice.

And I bend from the weight of it all.

At night, the dogs climb into bed

pressing against me until the warmth of our bodies is too much.

I fear I will lose one soon,

the older dog is not well.

And it breaks my heart, what’s left of it.

But I like the broken places.

The kaleidoscope of tangled glass and

spent shotgun shells. The dry carcass of

a forgotten world.

I find beauty here,

tucked beneath the surface.

Sheets pulled up tight and warm.

No walls.

And no ladders to climb.

No one else to please – I never could anyway.

Only the slow fade of orange into gray.

The sound of horses on hay.

A river of lights between here and there.

The clouds stretch and yawn across the sky

like silver ripples on a beach,

and somewhere a coyote howls.

And he owns this moment.

But the day, the day is mine.

In its light I go about building a future,

one I don’t yet know.

A stranger still to myself.

And she scares me at times.

I push her away and

hide behind locked gates,

walls of thorns.

I drink.

And I drink more.

But little by little

I find faith in her.

I find truth in

the soul of her.

And I know, if I can just sweep away all this damn dust I will be her.

1 Comment

Mar 12

Beautiful, so well written..

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