Note to Someone I Knew Four Years Ago
By Virginia Hosler

Today I said I like your shoes and with
nothing except a single shake of head
to break my mind into too many parts
you leave like thunder, like blood, like the fast
beating of heart inside these mellow bones
forever feeling earth to push up, back,
feeling it push up against belly, down
to lie in clover, feeling patterns, scents,
that twine and twist into your voice
until I pin this heart on cotton sleeve.