Untitled
(written 2004)

i remember the rain and my mandrake root
past 18 and ready to fly
not knowing the degree of the wind
nor the love lingering behind the trees
waiting for opportunity
waiting for me

i remember the sound of a hand slipping
away

so outside my window
visitors tap tap against my window
but i hardly let them come in
whisper, they to me

see
    how
we
        are
           still

here.