Revel

sit me down and tell me
why and when do you stir

There Is Joy Here

there is joy here
in my hand
a hand fully soiled
by the living earth, which offers me her story.

her happiness is the old soul's happiness
glad to recount
her eyes closed, breast drawn back in breaths,
the story of her time here,
amongst the old stars.

Paint I Wear

paint on me a picture of how I treat you
tattoo me with a rendering you consider just.
would I deal only in grace,
if my own malice were otherwise to stain me always?