30 days of poems – 2020 {7}


(in darkness)

is the shape
of your breath

or the whisper
that scratches blue
out of black

and the middle
(which never falls
dead center)

the way the moon
wakes me up
with sharp raps
on my window

or silence


by its own


. . . . .


here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

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