A Trampoline under Snow

So much information’s shared in the
unsaying. Everything you want to
know exposed by absence, which is it
self a place holder, like zero makes
one meaningful, provides a context
reminding us that something matters
most when compared to nothing. Our words
keeping glitching and sticking, unable
to let go or fade reasonably
when we need clarity. Out the back
door a trampoline under snow, last
used just for suspension, for sleeping
off under blankets the end of spring
with stars still exposed to the night, no
leaves to obscure them, the bats not yet
here, the mosquitoes still to arrive.