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Well And Spring
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Crying
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Legend has it: if you drink from the well You will return, but It's hard to tell She had found herself drinking from it twice -- One time at noon The rest at night Enter the spring: your soul remains Bubbling and stuck in-between To interrupt a clotting wound And cut to a fever dream Part of me wanted to spit So I'd become a part of it And this time, I wouldn't long The spring would pine for me instead When we built, a map upon the bed The ten of cups had nodded to A door I've since been looking for again Museum, the bending path Every e-mail, every text -- Places to go to catch her breath And relive the evidence “Close every one, lest you should spend Your whole life searching for them,” So, said the angel to the child Who, divided, broke the knife
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