there is absolution

in the unexpected coolness
of a sheet     the whispering
of lovelorn cicadas changing

form as life does—
    in one room after
another     in husks of cocoon

behind doors of eyelid,
forehead, lip     hidden
by curtains of lashes

beads of days prayed one
by one, worried smooth
in the fingers of time

again      and      again
the unleavened moon dissolving
on night’s repentant tongue

healing psalms sung
by rain       wind       breath
by the impulsive swish

 of the sleepy hair of a lover,
the rush of a silk dress,
a paper bag dancing in air’s arms.

—Published in Red River Review, October ’18