Suspended water,
Awash with shaking cries,
Blackening slowly.
Summer's sweet and empty
Of those chills they post,
In letters through the mailbox -
Or by leaving messages on the phone,
Signed with a kiss and promise,
And a mouthful of blood.
She collects them like trophies,
Polished daily with spit,
So now she's rich in
Broken collarbones,
Blossoming like lilies,
Holding strong and fast.
