Hiding

Hiding

There're catkins, and desperation  
to go back to who we were  
before I knew better,  
my rights,  
those wrongs  
stapled there  
between bottles.  
There are sparrows who sing
with ghosts in their mouths,  
if sparrows sing at all,
and I recall  
my head  
in a bucket at fifteen,  
between my legs,
poison leaving the body,
the look on his face
when I'd fallen
as far as one can fall,  
what it looks like  
when love is over.