Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Cleave

I can think myself out of a paper bag, tied tight and locked in a spinning chair above the sea. I think. I ponder. I rationalize. I conceptualize. I rethink.

My heart and mind are distant cousins. They make battle across my bones. I coax mind, follow heart. Mind replies, “ I must think about it.”

This is where you come in.

Stand guard for me. Watch for the moment. The sweet seconds of opportunity when I escape for light. Grab me. Shake me. Rock me back down. Wrap your arms around me strong. Don’t let me go. Whisper into my ear and stroke the wool hair on my head. And Wait.


Monday, March 19, 2012

Godspeed

I carry this image of you resting there naked. It is dark. I can barely see the lines of you pulled together. I sketch the rise and fall of your chest and match my breathing to yours. I like you like this, I say. Un-guarded. Un-tongued with open ribcage and arms by your side. You are enough.

There is always morning, though. And as the sun ascends, I see now, shell and bone forming again, moving swiftly from the tips of your toes up your shoulder blade. In moments, you will be apart from me.

In the full light of day, I am lost. I can only guess at who you are. I stumble around with my heart in my hands.

Afraid. Yes, always afraid, that under the sheer weight of my ignorance, my blindness--you, I, we, will collapse
before night can come again.

Godspeed.