The Making and Breaking of Habits and Hearts

.............

There was too much time -
I had fallen out of the habit
of breathing,
so the clovers on the lawn
were four-leafed
and brought nothing but grief.
Sometimes I wondered
why it was
that the Tin Man
wanted a heart.

Loneliness is a lovely thing -
(at twilight the rain
turned the streets to
silver) but
it is lonely
(late at night
the crickets
chuckled
in the depths
of the hedge) and I
was lonely.

Now I have slipped
from the habit of sleeping
into the broken hours
of your arms.
Nobody told me
time could tick apart
this way
(could take me apart
this way to find
my heart).
I wonder why
I ever thought
I had to breathe.