his mind’s a
coffee
shop
with its
murmurs..
spills..
and lack of quiet
space,
amidst head’s busiest
times of
day.
shadow play
mothered by
my tears
i’ll embrace
tenderness
and
bear conflict
in all its
masks
and rattling
fists,
until disturbed by
none of
it.
with wings like
shadows
he veils wild
eyes
from smoke, which coats
his feathers
like threats that plague him
through the
night.
like a rose between
pursed lips,
you sweeten the
breath
and seal my
mouth,
like the weed between
time’s teeth
you grind me up,
and spit
me out.
like the maple
tapped of
sweet,
i stand like any
sapless
tree
in a
foggy clearing
no bird
sees.
i watched you
swim at
dusk
shadows shrouding
ripples made,
your form faded
beneath,
to reappear as
fireflies
sprinkled over
violet
lake.
time loops around
my neck
cinching closer
with each
breath,
now picturing a
vacant beach
where one may
exhale in
peace.
it took abandoning
closeness
to appreciate the
distance
between self and
all needs
that keep me clutching
at weeds.
behind the
screen
i don’t
tan,
rather, my skin
sheens
blue
like lonely
skies
do.
heed my lone prayer on
sunday morning
and i’ll carry
you to
bed,
never fully
knowing
why you choose to
guard your
speech,
quiet ‘tween the
creases,
your breath still
on my teeth.
hands in the garden 
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