ATHENA’S BOOK

UP THE COAST

Her face appeared at the window
She had been up the coast

Longing and yearning
watching men turn into ghosts

Her house was chiseled into the canyon —
a pocket of marvel
a sliver of wonder

White noise
and grey birds

Wild beasts are said to roam these parts

Her thoughts stalk the edges
of what can be seen

It’s cold out here under the frozen sun

Hide your wounds
show them to no one

Until the time has come —
until I have come