Photo by Phil Roeder

when you lift your toe,
the fabric falls, folds.
the ropes dance.

your hair drags along
the forest floor
and my comb follows.

tonight, we’re lost at sea,
hidden in plain sight.
let’s not worry

our wishes into birds or
close off a corner of the room.
let’s have a thicker line,

a vivid hour, something
to mistake for weather
in our delicate climb.

shake, and the glass
that contains me shakes too.
shake, and my roots tighten,

turn back the layers.
warn your small animals,
clever queen, hand me

a soft black moon. we’ll
bow in from the north
this time of year, the rain

freezing our socks. formless
from hunger, early to rise,
we’ll decide who we are.

I know not to run from
the enemy. more than love,
it’s beauty that forgets me.

like the phoenix cuffed
midflight, don’t be
something that lasts.

be a house without
keys. a childhood
of broken things.