Saturday, April 4, 2020

(the way home)

The way home
is mostly silence.
The tires hum,
something rattles.

I measure
each breath –
I use honest weights:
past betrayals,
future intentions,
promises
laden with time.

How many doors
do we need to open
before we embrace
forgiveness?

Let’s go upstairs –
have the necessary
conversations;
then fall asleep
in my arms.