If I say: I won't mention Him
or speak any longer in His name,
His message becomes a fire burning in my heart,
shut up in my bones.
I become tired of holding it in,
and I cannot prevail.

how does the word-spackle
draw me up
like a creaking bucket from the well?
remove me from time, you words
of trickle over patched awning.
putty the swelling crack in my hope,
mother me with damp moss and raw breath,
revive the waltz of early morning,
the one two three
one two three
love you me?
you words, I know your music,
brewed from laughter and skin.
buried in you are stories, all true.
I reach to you, words.
my dreams drag as a stuffed toy
over the salted, noisy road.
bare feet on the cold asphalt,
the drowsy child rubs an eye
and smiles.