Resurface,

straining on the last…
Still-born storm with clouded eyes –
growing from any gray worn port, preface
to the Black Sea crumbling –
sliding back between the waves,
warning strangers to roads and
children from windows.
Ghosts and hopscotch on the sidewalks,
jumping splashes from crash landed raindrops,
hiding in the clever concrete
                 cracks.

One more time look through the air pretending –
pretending to be the collected white flocks of words,
pretending to be the preparations for happiness,
pretending to be the unwanted partner in despair.
When pretending is as close to being close.
and the thump
               of mountain butterflies on windows…


Evergreen, CO 1996
r berk