october?

“your silence today is a pond where drowned things live.”—adrienne rich.

i’m tired, i’m tired, i’m tired.

can’t you see that there is nothing left?
       or if there is, all i can hear is the steady, soft hum of the heat cycling off and on throughout the night.

you said obviously.
                                               there’s nothing “obvious” about this, darling.

unless you mean everything.

 in which case, i will be happy to sit on the porch and talk till the sky turns blue. (by talk, this time i mean listen). 

        babyface.