All
day you move just out of sight
a
flicker of thought flashing
through
the corner of the eye
canted
toward a past day
Dusk
arrives-- my longing rises
all
my windows and doors
laid
thick with salt
keeping
you at bay
Stars
gather overhead-- there is no moon
I
sweep the salt from the sill
open
the door
and
sleep
I
feel the heft of you
your
shoulder and ribs
heavy
against my leg
your
dear face held within my hands
Dreams
gather and release
breath
rises and falls
sighs
drift through the open door
a
mourning dove calls the dawn
Wake
and sweep the salt away
Pamela Olson, 7/4/2015
