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.