When the dust of my bones
Is folded gently into soil
Turned with water
Bled from swollen clouds
Breath broken and chilled
Inhaled by roots of rivers and willows
I hope my heart won’t shatter
When you hear the noise
The rain makes as it whistles
Shushing hollow homes
Tasting ripe apologies
I’m sorry
The sour insincerity
Quietly anchored
In shaky hands that just won’t still
Ever and always a sullen reminder
These knotted storms with beating chests
Can’t sing.