ELSEWHERE (BREAD-TH)

windswept you are.

my fingers swing out the window, hinging wrist.

layers of clouds,

I know which ones you'll ride on.

the scattered ones like our cliffs.

clouds that seem -- reachable --

rain tried to stop us, and lightning, 

but the roots of our mountains 

are at the bottom of the sea.

stormsoaked you are.

you stand at my door

and knock.

build me a room in your father's house.

tuck away with my family in the mountains and mesas.

admire streetside magnolias as they bloom.

admire brooke as she studies them on skin.

and where will we be when the sky shudders?

will the same stars fall on us?

will we spin in the rain

dance in time

apart, together?

THE WORLD WAS NOT WORTHY OF THEM

I used to remember why.

what to chase, exactly?

micro naps at stoplights.

attached, now, like this?

    like so, like so; --

an expanse that can only be smothered by the dusting touch of my fingertips. 

far too much room to breathe. 

never only in one place. 

see, I’m writing this on the highway. 

my eyes are tired.

my nose is tired.

my ears are tired.

my hands are tired.

my tongue is tired.

but could we dove away in a sand cavern somewhere?

you and I, with strawberries and aranciatas.

living in caves and holes in the ground.

AS IF

holding your hand through all of this --

holding your hand.

the immeasurable amount of peace that comes

when i am with him.

laptop to journal to body --

the frame of our trinity.

like windshield wipers somehow.

you are violent, dear, and i like it.

building sandcastles while we could be building bunkers --

while you're building your mansion --

we use sand, on purpose;

it's what we do;

we build together,

it's what we do.

as if it exists.

ENOUGH

time is memory is time

stretch me out like the handiwork of your heart.

never together until we're apart

sink deep, this is real, i'm enough.

aspen circle like stars in the sky.

hold their hands, not in dread of letting go,

but because it's good to hold their hands.

look to your left and see home.

look to your right and see a son.

valley golden with morning light

i said dawn was breaking and you opened your eyes

to find sunset in reverse 

and an interdimensional autumn.

a new day.

what did I say?

teagan will be fine.

i'm hiding her under the deck in the rain.

let me feather you, brush up against you in shade

a shelter you haven't forgotten,

no matter what you thought.

you have fashioned me, forged me, evening dove --

i'm spun like threads in your universe.

the delicate fibers of monotony.

what if I said fragile was me?

here, and now, and found.

it's my favorite.

the thing you know most.

i'm the sea foam between your toes

i'm the bunk bed creaking as you climb

i'm the long sandy curls of a songwriter nine hours away

i'm the harvest that made its way into his hair

alone, for now, with me.

I'm enough, you said it and I believe it,

and that's enough.

what if you made it real to me?