Beside my apartment, the pines are gathering.
A cave opens where I can string up my necklace.
While big men are carrying my books to their truck,
I write my last words from the year that shocked.
I’m under branches that filter
morning drizzle through needles,
the earth needs so much washing.
The army divides, turning marrieds to singles,
and casts them alone into various hemispheres.
We closed out my lease. An unnatural year
will be locked away and the keys turned in.
Streams are gathering by the parking lot curb.
You bend down to hide with me where you belong.
With mist drifting in here under the pines
you touch my hair and taste my mouth.
And climbing out into the dripping sky,
all the year’s hurt sinks under our feet.
We are raw and clean. We are closer to God.