Wild

Our hearts are wild things
that why are ribs are cages
grief can shake the organ until it
comes out through eyes in silent, tear-less sobs
racks a body with gentle violence
a bird that has lost its song
some can only stand wide open
door with a vacant
 lock
cannot be shut against the incoming
needs to be filled to overflowing
winds carry desired arms in rigid embraces
that aren't quite enough of enough
longs to know when it will carry those with strength
to hold a heart with too much vibration
lines are beginning to show in bruised rose shadows
 choking
dancing is the only valid expression
but it comes only on backs
laid to the jagged ground
hands permanently stretched to the
 heavens
mouths sticky shut
can let out only in smoke
Gardner, you know who you are
don't allow flowers that bloom in gallant moon soaked air
dissipate much too quickly
deserting in one last
 confession
open your wrists if that is the only
road left to the bluing
that maps to your cup
that is trembling
 thirsty