Inward

When your spirit uncurls her quieted veilless twin,  
that heart, all mouth innard red, in September,  
don't shy, don't bother
to crumple her small between pages,
to try
to find balance  
between fire and water and stone,  
don't break
under the weight of long  
extended almost-weres,  
those fevered, youthful dreams
that never dull with age or time
and when the summer breaks,  
screams names you once  
turned over,
go boldly into that new feeling,  
chased by Autumn's breeze
over leaves and seed and moor,  
fall soft with them,  
knowing it is a bold one who goes
to the hollow
where only historic feeling leads.