When a love can find no ground

When a love can find no ground
it sends pale roots through empty spaces:
arid dusty closets, musty basement trunks,

between forgotten hardback books,
looking for water. You feed it spit
and tears, visit its translucent limbs alone,

refuse to prune, watch it wither finely
into spindly filigree, lovely for wanting
to live and dying so quietly.

2008

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