for Rosemary Nissen-Wade
Except the brushes sigh
drawing in more detail
their love is a painting
when she waxes the moon
(broom is not a surfboard)
the bushes look different
he walks safe in his sleep
you seldom read about it
when he grows weaker
her poems get stronger
the points of measurement
bag of grain, good souls
at the gravity of love
point of hope (and heaven)
the sun and sweet fields
& at night in the granary
water mixed with wine and tears.
© 2011 Rob Schackne
Thank you, Rob!
ReplyDelete