Winter Spring Era—

naked over

the air. it’was

cold enough to snow

hot enough

not to stick. the poetry was in the air

flake twirls

& we don’t think about the sun. the poetry is in

being able to hold a thought. no jokes

or puns, I pen a death left unsung. how serious

do you take my words?

wood grains

passion grounds itself

& I take on your burdens..

to be a woman

is to be half

of the whole,

in other words

I need you

to know who God is.