The Material of a Tear

On an important shore 

a scroll is written in braille.

It's tied up with reason,

stuffed in a bottle, 

and tossed into the stream.

Then, reason broke 

and cascaded the tall page

down your face.

When I wipe my finger across 

the pillowed beach of your cheek,

I read about a time you felt so big

an account was written to share

with someone you trust 

the details of your bigness 

in this compactor place.