Monday, August 2, 2010

St. Peter Julian Eymard

I opened my jewelry box

and all the birds

I’ve ever known

flew out.

Their wings were dusty,

but their hearts were full.

Everything is more beautiful

because we’re doomed.

You will never be lovelier

than you are now.

We will never be here again.

I sent my mother

pictures of ceramic hands

reaching out to touch

every last inch of skin.

we curled up

in the backseat

of my Buick.

I waited for answers,

for a reason to go back home.

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