We
Made of paper
Write our words
In careful ink
Watching how
Underside
Bleeds
***
We
Made of
Fog
Obscure our
Walk forward
In obstacle
And loss
***
We
Made of
Wrung hands
Gather yet dry
Clothes on line
Before rain
Unbidden
Falls in noiseless
Sheets
Turning lawn
Vivid green
***
We
Made of
Incomplete
Stitch
Find no
Substance within
Wicked light
Dashes birds from roost
Darkening impending cloud
Like spilt ink
The words
Of my stained
Radiance
Dried and smudgeproof
With furied
Element

by CANDICE DAQUIN
© All rights reserved 2016