Overread at the Counter: For Dorianna

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191.

for Dorianna

This poem is a bleeding heart seeing advice.
This poem wants to be read for the sake of being read.
This poem does not so much

                                               paint, with
                                               words, but rather

         scatters words like dried leaves over
a cracked stone walkway at the dying end of autumn.

This poem told its daughter that time is as fleeting as breath,
and you will never know how precious it is, until
there is no breath left.

This poem tossed a pebble into a still pool,
saw the ripples,
thought of you.

This poem shudders at the thought
of two ravens
dipping low across the windshield,
                                                 escaping the darkening sky.

This poem is not interested in conversation.
This poem understands if you cannot help,
or clarify,
or give examples,

this poem only wishes you to know that this poem
wants to frame your words

place them as a painting on a brick wall,
and walk through into the place

where words are no longer necessary.