Below, a poem that will be including in my upcoming book of poetry, ‘learning to dance with stone’… x (((o)))
the healing ears (not a typo either)
a hanging half moon night is
nagging away a blue sky day
driving back home and stopping in on the way
a mallard stands at the store door
mom with a butcher knife
still screams in my ears
remembrance…
that i got way too close
to an unknown
full-swinging baseball bat
and the many drums are healing once again.
yes please, the resonant.
—weaver © 2003