For Teisha by Scott Poole

Your music is still here,sunk into my bones.A great stonesits heavyin the bucket,deep withinthe well of breath.It twists my spineon inhale,roses bloom,arms raise,ribs soften with moss.Your song leaves mesplit openand dumbstrucklike a June gardenboiling in joy,soaked in sun shaftspoured throughthe ripped roofof the world.How does your voicealways answera prayerI never had the gutsto pray?You will neverbe silentagain.