Unsearched hiding places.
The tapering bleed of rain on the window
or the wind rush blowing over the tin,
rusty roof.

Sinful limbs longing for anointments and
the tormented hour of parting lovers.

Wrinkled eyes waiting to be soothed
by the saddened wings of the angel.

Red cedar fragrance
or a love letter that you used to know by heart.

What is poetry?