Spider spins webs of delight
   from her body
grateful for these crispy, crazy apples
   he eats them to the core
These glaring ghosts unstitch our hearts
So much joy in a pocketful of dust
She wants to be understood
Deceiver, fickle, ungrateful…blind
You weren’t then and shall not be
Stitch patiently…
   she lives the good hours
The familiar is stranger than that
Her breath like footsteps on broken glass
This life has no end
   this vision no limits
He changes his shirt twice a night
   and hates being photographed
Our ghosts hover and laugh between the troubles
Sunlight so bright it’s darkness

-May 31, 2009-