Dormancies Emptiness, absent for a while, claws out of its hole. Friends die back to the ground as the heat of summer arrives. He was still alive in this book, she said, then heard her own words. The bleeding heart hangs its ornaments, and I solicit the cherry blossoms for a private conversation. In the dream, my teeth casually come loose. I tongue the gaps. The meaning is the one you’d expect. An important question: what bird would you be? I said swan. You said you didn’t care for birds. On a dewy summer morning, I walk through a spiderweb on accident. Like so much else, it clings and follows.
N ATA L I E H O M E R
9
