unknown caller
the threads that tie you to this life will break
and break you
again and again you will remember the warmth
that resides in the garment is not the garment itself
nor a word that unspools from a mouth,
the furthest reaches of a word,
cast the substance itself
in name always
otherwise.
the wind blows. the fire spreads. the mind feels pain.
so, too, the tenderness that resides in him he cannot help
but turn against you.
it is winter;
you must live for spring.
the red bud branch scrapes at the window.
every creature, every moss-covered stone
calls out your name.