resurrection blue jeans

16

in the winter
i bury my jeans in the garden
where weeds strangle the flowers

come spring
i dig them up with bare hands
toss them into the river
and let them sink to the bottom

in the summer i fish them out
spread them on the rocks
and let the sun dry them clean

i hold my breath
until the harvest moon
and then slide them on
one leg at a time

under cover of the night
i climb in her bedroom window
when everyone sleeps
and the hours are small
wake her with a kiss and a dream

our broken arrow
sticking out of the back pocket
of my resurrection blue jeans

 

 

Words and Image: B. Reeves

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