Q:
What storm is it
that keeps me listening —
molecular, mythic
unintelligibly dear?*
*Never an answer from
the stubborn dead.
A:
I wish that for one moment I could:
1. relax, weep, be myself
2. forgive, know better, win, undo
3. love properly, keep secrets
4. stop the bleeding
5. forget or overcome
Q:
how to go on
knowing nothing
of what will happen
A:
If I buried you in the fields
I know best, starred with grasses,
they would yield no rest.
You are loud and sweet-pithed
setting meadows afire,
too angry to be dead as such.
Chloe Stopa-Hunt
poemsinwhich.wordpress.com 