death tarot

i ride a skeleton horse into the mouth
of the ending i didn't want. isn't this always
how a love poem goes? i wanted & wanted 
until the sun lost all his legs running.
when i pull the death card i know it is time
to find the shovel. walk out into a forest
that knows my name & dig a hole deep enough. 
a dream is an organism. blood. breath. bones. 
hungers. i feed it my fingers & my eyelashes. 
i make promises i cannot keep. i am told by
a blue bird this is just a cycle. that tomorrow,
alive again, i will just need to ask again for seeds.