Red Moon
       

Because of what I've done
I can't sleep again.

There is a mass
of sadness
floating into the garden.

Of course
I go after it.

I take my blood with me.
I take my hands
and try to reason with it
to let me use its voice
as a cutting tool
because it sounds like you.

We have to keep
opening ourselves up.

We have to keep
going in

the red room.

I am not reasonable

and touch
every blossom, go around to each
and forgive them
for how they kill the ache

I need to stay
alive like this

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Copyright © 2016 Corinna Rosendahl All rights reserved
from Salt Hill
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission