Secrets
infesting my half-
sleep…
did you enter my
wound from another
wound
brushing mine
in a crowd…
or did I snare you on
my sharper edges
as a bird flying
through cobwebbed
trees at sun-up
carries off spiders on
its wings?
Secrets,
running over my soul
without sound,
only when dawn
comes tip-toeing
ushered by a suave
wind,
and dreams disintegrate
like breath shapes in
frosty air,
I shall overhear you,
bare-foot,
scatting off into the
darkness….
I shall know you,
secrets
by the litter you have
left
and by your bloody
foot-prints.