Secrets
Lola Ridge
Secrets infesting my half-sleep… did you enter my wound from another wound brushing mine in a crowd… or did I snare you on my sharper edges as a bird flying through cobwebbed trees at sun-up carries off spiders on its wings? Secrets, running over my soul without sound, only when dawn comes tip-toeing ushered by a suave wind, and dreams disintegrate like breath shapes in frosty air, I shall overhear you, bare-foot, scatting off into the darkness…. I shall know you, secrets by the litter you have left and by your bloody foot-prints.
