by Michelle Villanueva
your love too strong whispers those fields she knows
reaping these very blades the girl so young
clean slices glisten fast against slight hay
lame engines bellow forth their liturgy
she laughs when she remembers the blank words
while she traces star petals with her fingers
tease apart patterns of shifting tendrils
grandmother told her still she scans dark skies
waiting for some break in the firmament
cautiously the lace border around us
sends shadows through distant dividing walls
timid as freedom we seek these gardens
electric she sighs paths into being
creation was once that easy the sands
call her while the meadows breathe their firm hush
alone she scales the breeze for our own sake
her cubs though we much older than these hills
delight in the pitted youth of her hands
salvation patters rain toward the window
awash within the dunes she made herself
we wait sniffing the air for coming storms
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