unsteady

when my tears rest
like hail
and pale to my lips 

as your finger touches unsteady...

and the sound of grasshoppers
at play
as  to a chant in a field
of the wise of gifts

when your hands smooth
to your hands
in a gentle path so guided
upon my balled skull  unworthy to every touch

then and then... your
emptiness there will be
as to the  heart
a silence 
my Love...

to unsteady a life becomes