Easter.

i.

rising on sunday

so far so late.

wind grabs your shirt

and tug along,

the pollen flying

trying to find a home.

ii.

eyelashed,

two lips tell me

this is ready

this is good

this is where we are.

i wish i did not fear

water,

water in my ears and

nose, flooded ways.

iii.

feet slipping,

sheets slipping,

bodies slipping

down, down, down

to the place we went

to drown, drown.

iv.

maybe you saw the way

in which the clouds ran

after the rocks fell,

and maybe you thought

something was wrong

that even clouds had to 

escape.

but they could not go

much farther to the east, 

round and 

round and round again.

v.

then i rose,

and then i fell,

i thought, tomorrow.

tomorrow will not be too late.

tomorrow would be fine.

i can wait.