Poetry

Nothing to put in
words. You had placed
ampersands between
the names.

The subject you
wouldn't give up in summer
sun.The wars and moon walk.

One small hole
in the sleeve of Grim Reaper
ready to burn the house
of an angel.

One day you will
come back from odyssey
empty-handed. The
hummingbird had left the nest.

The game was not
yet over. The prophet
waits at the gate to welcome
dervish coming bare foot.