heavy hearted stone?

before dawn, he
sends the birds.
one chirps slow,

listening to brother/
friend–maybe God.

my father in heaven
delighting in me today,
face seeming ever distant –

star, sun turning shoulder
grey this third day february.
i could wish joy, ask anything

expectant in majesty blistered
skin never compares, cannot see.
question you mind not. grandma

standing over the toaster oven,
the white (air), italian, english
muffin drawer below her –

standing beside that silver
garbage can, watching a dark
figure i imagine wearing babushka;

leaves me waking to dream
unreality I’ll catch breath,
forgetting not her presence–


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