giving way

          “How long before the eaves gave way to the sky, or the bathroom floor was jack-hammered to bone, while the trees outside were left to redirect the wind? How quickly the den must have become more kitchen and bedrooms lost their privacy. I see the books we’d packed up and moved years ago under a pile of fresh rubble,…


          she finds comfort in routine the ebb and flow the rhythm of  everyday even when it’s rough especially when it’s rough      


        she once made me a rag doll with a mop of yellow yarn hair          


          I’m a thief in the night undercover I steal secrets        


           (Mozart claims he does not know who chewed those leaves)