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| Stillborn, Mary Tumulty |
Trees
bleed leaves around me.
A stain
marks my shirt.
In
pours sunset—
a wash
of blood.
The
cold catches my breath.
My
legs freeze.
It’s
the same ole meadow.
It’s
the same ole breeze
cut
from another year
where
I’ve forgotten how to forget.
Lend
me your voice.
I
want to put it in my mouth—
breathe
in light and heat
heal
up cracks with kisses.
It
is in your lips
that
summer lives.
It
is in your eyes
where
love frees me from the chains of living.
Hold
me so yesterday can
spoon
tomorrow.
Touch
me where things cannot be born and die
in
a single push of time.
Anita Stienstra
