it's that time of year
where I always find myself
surprised by how much
sleep I actually need

I walked into
The bathroom for
The third time today
Tiles
Cold and knowing
All the secrets I’ve shared
The ones I haven’t
Beneath my feet
Content with reading
Everything but
The lines between you
And between me
The light peering in
For more poems to
Keep
The beer in my hand
For a last word
To read
The book to my
Left untouched
Water on the stove to heat
And I couldn’t
Keep the warmth
To stay feet tangled
Toes pressed
To seed.

Pressed flowers
Like pages
Of the Bible I’ve never opened
But weighs heavy on my back
Southern strains
The belt
The weight
All pressed
Flowers
In pages

Old words
Like old songs are
Living old worlds
And still it seems
You can’t escape them

Why is it-
In brown paper bags
Declarations of love-
That I only want
You distant and sharp.

3 am makes trees grow taller
i've seen it
falling into the edge of morning
it's gentle like the sway of
my buckling knees
under the weight of
four drinks
and the rush of being in love

i know there have been others
maybe there will be more
that i want to stay awake for -

a play ground at dawn
lost key and found lock,
even the same story
begins to feel
new

please
if you are going to leave
pack your things
while i am away