that tremble

a minute vibrato

between Palm and Palm  

The absence of a thing


cupping afternoon sun

not even wind, only

a trembling.  


when I pray, it's only breathing

in: Holy

out: Spirit  

hollowed out hope  

throbbing with the warm

pulse I ignore for weeks before

I remember. And it courses again

as if by self resuscitation.  


cover me with feathers,  

deliver these breath-weight words  

AuthorBeth Ables