4.

for the boy

i see you
when you're sleeping
not the tall, angry
slammer of doors,
but a small, wild
boy
who loved to follow
me
into trees
or the ocean
memories that fall away
when you wake
and look at me
that way.

ht.


(untitled)

quiet quiet house
listen to the tick of heaters cooling
the far-off hum of a busy road
an evening winding down
without a sound

ht.