DRY EYES

Last year I cried a lot

Like monsoon season

West Coast winters

Pacific storms.

Last year I flew apart

Like an eagle’s nest

Torn from a treetop

Flung into the wind.

Last year I showed the world

My most intimate part

Scaring even myself

With my foolishness.

This year my eyes sting

I blink away

The dry summer dust

And doubts.

This year

I will store

The foul weather

Inside.