Have you any plans with me?

By my bedroom window, overlooking

the fields you plowed prematurely

pregnant with tomatoes

plumped and flushed in red

bathing in the sunrise of January,

run it by me.

By my bedroom window, while I sit

rocking back and forth, then back again

on a backdrop of autumn –

a curtain of sunset orange

over a famine of the soul,

run it by me.

Valediction

We plug our ears with bellows of wind

To drown the echoes of words

Lost between tongues, jammed in praise

We dance to the beat of our own descending tears

Ripped from ducts delivered to their new home

– a pool of sorrow on our concave laps

And we look each other in the eye

A thick glass of indifference between us

And listen to the wind come tumbling down

In the distance, the future burns

Like a two-toned sky in the horizon

And we are too blind to take it all in