I'm learning how to become personal again:
normal

We wanted to become normal. Transform from
rare jungle orchids (wilting and blackening at touch)
to fields of golden wheat in abundance
so our love could be harvested

So I bruised my altar, burnt my wings and
I filled my belly with toast
and my face with flesh
lips and wine and the local market and
pillows shaped like you

This second life
is much like the first
except the glasses are clean
and I can hear the sound of
leaves breaking in the wind, rice
popping, insects knees

Back and forth
we are always traveling from one
beat to the next, pressing two fingers
against the neck for the red:
there is no place Dorthy