almost every sky has a moon,
trees cast comforting shadows
on the trembling surface of the pond
where last night the milky way overflowed.
a small breeze awakens catkins
that release their grip on spring

as silence tiptoes behind the moonlight
to a place far below the horizon,
dawn spreads like fingers of irresistible melancholy
tangling in the hair of the darkest weeping willows
the sun explodes like an incendiary shell
chopping up the morning chill

i'm a co-dependent marshland, just now
taking shape, a swamp stench
in a wilderness without you.
i am a thousand white cranes flying away,
a book of weather written by a lost vagabond,
staggering footsteps on the mountain,  clouds vomited
from hills, sadness emerging from the chimney
of a paper mill reflected in your mirror,
an orchard where golden apple trees have died

teach me      how to be your lover