Sternum Rub
Something in me
is tender to you
May I ask how you are?
I guess not
The geranium on the window sill
has lost its bloom again
I know you have forgiven me the way
I am always a shovel stood in a
bank of snow, a job unfinished and
half-buried
When I woke today it was because
something stung and I knew
I’d been dreaming of you


