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