RIVER CROSSING
Blue black lashes of some distant branches
Lift a lid to a sky spilling spit and tears
Letting loose a smudge of wings
Washed by the wind
There's no red to this day
And I cannot write a love poem
But my heart is red, tulip red
An interrupting song of longing
The sickness of chasing eyes
Fluttering on the tips of the empty tree
Each bird that flies is carrying a heart
I dissect the wing and there is blood
It's the hanging on that bleeds my fingers
So even the whisper of let go
Scudding across the set of my thought
Brings life seeping to my door
Blood smudged across the lintel
Allowing us both to flee, to let go
Across the red surge of river
Into safety, into foreign hands of trust
Perhaps the black flock is actually angels
And the terror of their flight that protects
It spins and camps in a circle around us
Dropping manna to earth like a vow
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