Birches

Today the birches fully yellow.
The creek is flying those wild flags.
It has tasted the honey
of the dark hives of lightning
burning in the mountains.
The chickens drink bravely
from the shallows, and their eyes
sharpen with secret knowledge.
We do not hear their small hearts beating wildly
out in the early darkness.

You'd Tell Me

If it were important, you'd tell me.

The way you shake your head while you brush your teeth,

Looking into your own green eyes like you don't know them.

Two weeks ago you told me a secret.

I remember your arms raised high, touching the ceiling, 

Holding yourself together.

I am here, when your heart is beating faster than it should.

I sing to that tune, an ever changing tempo,

Playing piano across your chest.

We bake a cake every Sunday,

Flour on your nose, my nails painted red,

Nostalgia of a time we do not belong to.

When you come home you stare at the blank TV screen,

Silent, almost gone.

If it were important, you'd tell me.