Between Breaths

wind blows up the alley
dried, fallen, white petals sound like a rain-stick on the pavement
that soft liquid sound
liquidity in the sky

I dreamt of gardens
lie back
the plots of irises, lilac by the Woman’s College
real name on the sign

breathe
close, toughing
breathe

a hollowed out cactus
dried and pins inside
tip it over
listen for the beads

calling rain
grating against dry pavement and beat-up cars
looking in windows
looking in the moments between footsteps and on

the light is blue this afternoon
I kicked through sand littering the street
and listened to the fallen petal in the alley
blowing around and away from me

breathe
the wind smells of rain
breathe
the air changes softly, distinctly
empty alley off the street

and it rains.






Motivation is a funny thing. Here I haven't written a single word in weeks, since April I think, and tonight a couple of poems. And I'm tired and thinking about sleep and five hours of work tomorrow, not to mention two more weeks of school and then finals. I'm ready to be done. Montana will be a break, but I'm not fully looking forward to it. I'm simply tired and that's all.