Looking Up Through the Fruitless Mulberry
by Loretta Diane Walker



"When darkness makes a place at the table,
I feed him and teach him what hospitality feels like." ~ Adriene Crimson Coen


Darkness is a bully by birth.
No one taught him tenderness.
When he broke the wings of your longings,
he taunted you with dreams.

Sometimes you have to let desires sleep.
Sometimes you have to treat emptiness like a friend.
Sometimes you have to gather light from the hem
of a closed door.

Out of kindness, the universe hangs lanterns
on the darkened street of your heart
and will not always give you what you demand.

I feel you fumbling through the house,
your yearnings strong enough to break windows.
Wishes are fragile glass.

I watch you walk across the yard,
look up through the dense roof
of the fruitless mulberry.
The leaves are ventriloquists.
Their voices tremble
with your melancholy in the long evening.

Tears are words, too.
Your eyes write on the slate of slanted sky
everything you are not saying.





Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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