each night I put my life out

a bowl of milk on the back steps

the trees full of questions

dreams, boarded up so long, bloom

in the spaces they open….  but where

are you?  I have waited so long 

in an empty house.    raccoons

drink the milk   knock over the garbage

walk down the middle of my sleep

and tear to shreds an already little

life.  those scraps of white

blow through the window

into my cupped hands