At the Corner of “Hope” and “Home”

One street is a sanctuary
and one is a sunrise.

There had never been
a more lethal storm
on the fraying skyline.

I drove through it –
half-bewildered
half-asleep;

half-seconds
were half-hours.

When I finally rolled
past the wind and gravel

you were illuminating
your front lawn

with eyes like soft diamonds
cutting through the incurable dark;

lips seducing the moon
to break from its orbit.

Your hair came down
upon me –

cascades of every breath
I couldn’t summon

at the corner
of Hope and Home.