palm        unreserved (by air)
but filled so (like it owns me)

there is space in my

arm                unslept on
where you (are my) rest

& space in my

shoulder           undreamt &
airgapped (so blancficially)

there is space in my
bed                             

not fate's       (nor maybe's)
but mine's      now (for you

& you                                  

& you                  

& you)

the glistening
pearloil
which is You;
incarnate
on my ribbone.

it's come
& never
left,

always right
beneath the
rough touch;

handfuls
of your
hipsful
& waistful
i hold you
& feel you
and you
feel me like
cigarette
burns.

ont blistered walk
aroundt couple

who stood on folds
of nekked geese:

"why oh why wings ???"

let em grow hooks
to throw at trambacks

& ride long past
the cryptid men

who hop

skip

& step

on dirtichor landmines.

love is dog-eared, and chases
rabbits like playdates. love is
an astigmatism hung from the moon.
love is written in lemon and sugar.
love makes up questions just to ask
you something. love borrows books
& love listens to mixtapes. love wears
your hat and doesn't want to take
it off. love is a secret handshake.
love is the kitchen in which you
make her soup. love is a listening
booth in 90s cinema. love is all
here in red blue green. love hides
in shoes & does the long walk.

love is the 'almost-there'.