Rohan P

Rohan P Jun 2018

fold

you fold
blankets into ribbons of
light

(she folds
stars like spiderwebs

—
to catch you.

i wish i didn't miss you

#fold

Rohan P Jun 2018

pages

scriptures tear
along her hairline: forehead
creased and painted. i can't
help but think of her
as a deer—as the opening
of the breeze, as the advent
of night, where letters
fold into triangles.

#page

Rohan P Jun 2018

oregon fog

foggy inclines, green saplings
and pines: you always loved
the water.

you long for
elsewhere, but
the currents stirred and

you swept into the fir.

for acacia (dewdrop).

#elsewhere

Rohan P Jun 2018

it didn't rain

the rains
gather in lines across
your skin.

they wave
like faraway leaves;

they flutter and circle
me; they float out of
reach;

they
brown
in the sodden soil.

I wish it would. Maybe we would hold each other in the deluge.