Rhymes From A Line

The silence that picked me up from the lake and the forest
a line radiates straight from a dry tree branch
I am the one behind the ruins
order hundreds of mirrors from your lips

The eye, calling from another realm
the contents of the line being scratched
is the fertile beauty of your eyebrows
dancing with grief
perhaps the day keeps changing
and early morning
always wake me up to your house

Then I pulled the line
On the vortex of tears in a dream
On a cold, damp twilight
And lived by dry leaves