drying grass moon (one last time before it rains)
rooibos steeps in spanish glass first quarter moon
today is loud in the trees — the sound of rain before water.
I answer a knock on the door but I see no one.
there’s a box on the porch and I can’t read the return address.
all these words still the same moon
all these words thirsty for a cup of black water
all these words every window open to the street
black butterfly moon
in all the rooms of my house
all the words
we haven’t said