streaked minnows and music know
each other as
gold and darting
before either knows what for—
which is for swimming and which is
for swimming
she swims toward her heart upon her bed
a splashing that turns to broad,
strong strokes
as sleep falls
as schools of minnows flash
Let’s imagine it possible—
that we can have clean palms and a
pure something
heart or rest
maybe a bold strong stroke
she won’t know until she’s sleeping
how pure and falling
how the something of her music is
how answered is praying
let’s let it be possible
that cherries can know spring when
they’re deep in their trees,
believe they will turn something,
flashed and unsleeping,
more than the dream of a snow-weighted branch
~ reprinted with the permission of the author
