Spring

Spring
3-18-14

how water surges from faucets
how the dead visit us in dreams

how the moon rises like steam behind dark trees
how the moon rolls over the stars like a man in a barrel

how the dead speak without sound, saying everything at once
how stars roll out of faucets and find lovers' beds

how roots elbow aside old bones and whisper everything to the branches
how the branches surge and the air reddens around them

how light floods the evening and overflows its banks
how light swells like fresh salt bread

how in dreams the dead live without sorrow and our hearts surge
how nothing is left unchanged, not trees, not dreams, not light, not lovers