ORAL TRADITIONS
He finds secrets
I didn't know I kept
flaunts them on
the tip of his tongue
I kiss them back
Suck them in
until they are mine
again
SANCTUARY
My body
is a temple
with a garage
for you to park
those nights
you come to visit
ROUST
There is rain in my head
There are clouds and
thunder and high winds
Turbulence
as I try to focus
Futile concentration
Eyes blurred
like a wind shield
and the wipers don't work
I'm driven back
forced to retreat
Go back to sleep
