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for this i would pour my time out from my pencil til i was gone
short of age
to admit to dreaming myself carved deep into the dips where your elbows rest 
to quake to the humanity of the mundane-

I hope the earth craves the soles of my feet in the same love 
the shards of my stillness could use to halo you in the raw day
Casting myself 
briefly understood by the spaces carved by body and language-

I’d like to live alone some days –
picture window 
red mug
snow;
someone’s visiting tomorrow,
tomorrow I will live alone again
wait for the next tomorrow 
(I want it more)
stay a night,
stay an extra one;