His bones were crumbling columns of sand
that blew apart when she breathed, and scattered
grains across the canyon like memories.
Once, while he was sleeping, she sewed shut
the tiny tear on his temple where the nightmares broke in
with a single strand of her tawny hair.
Once, while she was sleeping, he planted seeds
in the corner of her eyes, so her sorrows
would always bring her flowers.
Photo by Dave Kellam
This poem was partially inspired by today's Think About It Mondays post on ThoseGirlsAreWild.com. So, to continue that discussion: what part, if any, do you think logic plays in love?