passing afternoon

there are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon

summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon

and she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her

wooden spoons

her children stir her bougainvillea blooms

there are things that drift away like our endless

numbered days

autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made

and she's chosen to believe in the hymns her mother sings

sunday pulls its children from their piles of fallen leaves

there are sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass

springtime calls her children 'till she let's them go at last

and she's chosen where to be

though she's lost her wedding ring

somewhere near her misplaced jar of bougainvillea seeds

there are things we can't recall

blind as night that finds us all

winter tucks her children in

her fragile china dolls

but my hands remember hers

rolling 'round the shaded ferns

naked arms

her secrets still like songs i'd never learned

there are names across the sea

only now i do believe

sometimes

with the windows closed

she'll sit and think of me

but she'll mend his tattered clothes and they'll kiss as if they know

a baby sleeps in all our bones

so scared to be alone