All you can talk about is that storm from last night. Blowing out every synonym you know for strong and dark and wild, You reenact its rage as if you, too, were born of booms and whooshes.
Good work, baby, watching that rain all night and naming those unseeable sounds for me as I slept tight and curled and crooked, slept straight through it, seems my eyes never open wide enough to witness the ruin around me.
Instead of watching midnight loss, I found you building paperweights in a factory in my dream. How deceiving a force wrapped in clear beauty can be, weighted and wanting only touch, such a perfect way to keep a thing from leaving, you say
It’s always the wind that no one sees coming. Last night so many trees and yards, parked cars and plants and people blew away, an entirely new town was made by morning, just a few miles down the street.
Now you turn to face the window, lament the soft ground and growing grass, shake your head from inside and sigh at what the wind left behind. Have you tried telling the grass to stop living, that you don’t like how it moves for you?
Only the dead know words like still and forever, I know tomorrow I’ll be better at waking up quick and thin and ready to shape myself into your missing thing, I’ll blow your sleeping arm from atop my quiet chest and chase that unseeable newness a few miles down the street.
Running Through Honey in the Dreamworld
I will kiss your teeth clean while you write dreams on striped floors, I will wear white socks and wade knee-deep in black water, I will pick this river up and watch the water fall right out with you, I will turn this car around. I will
swallow every swordfish whole & read our futures from water spots on drying pots and pans, I will make up the ending if it isn’t you so every ending ends with me saying you. I will
turn the fan on low so when you whisper in ALL CAPS from across this giant bed: BIRD, HOW MANY BEES DO WE SWALLOW TO LIFT US OFF THIS GROUND? I can tell you this:
We are already running through honey in the dreamworld— as in, waking up sleepy, as in, going nowhere fast, as in, slow and ready, now please
yawn into my mouth while I count out minutes with Mississippis. Thank you for loving me in such long & hard-to-spell ways.