we would have each other, silent save for these tassel
missals sent like homing arrows, like patient pick up sticks.
If silence were an animal it would surely have long hair
and you and I would bend to pet her or him, passing
through the quiet crowd, the color of the air
outside. The sky is my sister and I dare her to take these
well-guided arrows, these prayers that no one's best friend
pass away this year or that we might love our daughters
without pause, that these walking sticks standing upright,
red and natural earthen brown, will stake a place where
we will dance a rainless dance and anticipate
the future new year weather stacked in this, our shared cupboard,
that we will flag a new name like fortunes tucked in cookies
a restlessness folded under, pinned like a hem
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