More Poetry Outtakes

Oracle

On a day full of holes,
all I see is a sky full of you.

In the dry air, hissing with static,
your voice is a chime

clearing the stuck hours,
ringing away dull rage.

You may be a mistake,
you may be a poisoned flower.

You may be a stone’s shadow
or a contagious flame.

Nevertheless, nevertheless
your consolations could marry my spaces.

Give me my name.