I hold your body and it turns to dust,
ash across my elbows.
I look for you where
rivers froze and all
I’ve got are cadavers of ice,
cold waves where warm
currents should reach
I look for a soul not so self-serving,
smiling one moment, a turncoat the next.
I read your horoscope
as if it’s not a hoax
because you always saw the best in stars.
But I believe this
in this summer of
Offered you June and I’m drenched like
it’s April, untameable squalls.
But I was always
contrary to your
I’m starting to face my truths; the
rain against my