In Limbo 2

  she fell and broke her foot. her head bled and they cried 'get some ice," a voice screamed. 'may be I am dying. glass rain,  piercing, cruel, hot. "All my precious  ceramics and china!" detachment coerced upon the heart that loves; lying in bed the bare walls enclose upon her, resounding with blabbers  of children and grandchildren: first  words, first steps, falling crying  laughing. She smiles. The rupture  in her head hurts. Like a kitten  tangled up in a ball of wool it had  never intended to unravel, she lies there in the debris of daily life,  softly moaning. Eleven birds in the twirling depths of  skies: craned neck, eyes squinting  trying to communicate with the  dancing song of the winged beings "take me  with you, I who wanders  alone these stretches of red earth  looking for feathers, stones and  some meaning lost and never found";  a snake slithers past shy unsure  shedding the safety of its hiding  place; black cat is not breathing rufous

  write to me with the spume and spray of the rumbling  ocean; write to  me with the  susurrant gold of barley fields  swaying in the  wind; write to  me with the  soft smudge  of the inky  clouds hovering  over a lonely  porch; write to  me with the  cool breath of a winter morning leaning against  bay windows  wanting to  sneak in under  the warmth of  an old quilt write to me with  twilight silence  clamped over  the silhouette of the tall sycamore in your backyard; write...