Body aches and head swimming as though the tide has moved right below my window.
If I could, I’d breathe in faster, make dizziness swell in quick successions.
Crickets pepper the blood-rushed symphony outside.
Forget pills, Echinacea tea and vitamins.
Wrap in blankets while the inner-things tingle out of me, carried off by pottery-wheeled sounds of sea.
Now all things are lighter.
Disappointments take off their clothes.
Things I haven’t forgiven lie in fields, sunbathing, inviting me to drink wine.
They petal out, fanned and forgotten, losing their boundaries in a dissolving sweeter than cane sugar.
Imagine, somewhere, every anger grows seeds, lessens in bitterness, waits for the belly of the grain-silo, for love.