Clover

Weaving, grieving
All the letters
On top of each other
Is it sexy or just heavy
Watching people
Holding hands and holding people
Watching hands
I’m looking for a smell I remember
Grasses that let the field recover
Rye and red clover
I would the whole meadow
But the seeds don’t take on the hills
Does salt do that to skin?
I’d listen to you talk forever
But when the action arrives
Ideas of music too high to hear
Colors just beyond cellular
What feelings can I feel
When I just stop
Blinking, breathing
The cockatrice and the basilisk
Stare each other down
How much yes
Can I feed to the fire
Verbs at absolute zero
Stacked into a moon gate
Gargoyles smiling in the woods

* Thanks Elisabeth for the cockatrix inspiration this morning!