Surrounded by a wall worn smooth

when once it used to be a memory or three.

They all come back

and I hear them from the blue-green

crest near the mountain


where you live there is water and water

is a mystery I’m scared

I might find what is holy, what is sacred

and then, I’ll start to believe


in more than red earth and daisy chains.

I’m sure I heard you say

Stay. When I woke you watched

as I walked after I said goodbye to the night


after the morning I felt

all of you and then, of course, you start

talking about your wife.

It doesn’t matter she left ages

ago. There was always your need for blame.


These days, you tell me you have changed.

No flood could light

another broken prediction you threw

me off like a souvenir.

I will never send this postcard.