You cannot fold a flood*
any more than find words for
loss
my sorrow is feral
un-tameable
un-nameable
Every floorboard holds
your imprint, every corner.
Shadows move, dark, pace
midnight, 4am, dawn
you, you and you, again.
[some words for Mina]
[title and first line from a poem by Nick Flynn.]
yvonne C. garrett 