You remind me of the lines
that have been drawn
between the soft parts of the body,
where hands draw me closer in the darkness,
the quilts cover all that must be forgiven.
In this lucid dream
I am so wide awake
that I am almost
the sacrament that rests
on my tongue.
I breathe.
I swallow the words, tenderly satisfied.
I inhale.
I am between God
and the earth
frozen under my feet
in this darkest time.
At night under the cloak of clouds
the owls wait for me to arrive at home
and call to remind me we are in transition
between body and something lacey
as the distance between the stars.
The birds call out, deep and throaty
to lovers just like you are,
but this will be the last winter
for the warmth of the breasts
that nursed me into the world.
It will be the last full moon
before we plant ashes
near the man
who gave us everything.
The lines are drawing tightly
and make me wish
for so much more more
than the relief
that time can give.
