Jun 03


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-
Though you and I, our bones will look the same.

I felt the moving cracks in your breath through bitter fingertips
your lust to let cupped hands become the keeper of your inhales,
exhales rushed from closed fists

Life would rot in my lungs
before my hands would wilt within you .

I used to wonder why wind could never carry the falling of your face 
as long as I had lived between the din of your flowers;
My days were spent folding within deep trembles of invisible currents 
Yet still, my body would not eat from my palm,
my clock would not strike man or earth or beast-

It tells time in thickets down my chest,
It feeds itself when I thank you for the world