Well and Spring - Crying

Legend has it: if you drink from the well

You will return, but

It’s hard to tell

She had found herself drinking from it twice --

One time at noon

The rest at night

Enter the spring: your soul remains

Bubbling and stuck in-between

To interrupt a clotting wound

And cut to a fever dream

Part of me wanted to spit

So I’d become a part of it

And this time, I wouldn’t long

The spring would pine for me instead

When we built, a map upon the bed

The ten of cups had nodded to

A door I’ve since been looking for again

Museum, the bending path

Every e-mail, every text --

Places to go to catch her breath

And relive the evidence

«Close every one, lest you should spend

Your whole life searching for them,»

So, said the angel to the child

Who, divided, broke the knife