but
other times our
hands held each other like
reins hung from
low-swung sweet
chariots, her carry
always felt like
a home coming

we spent every morning
together,
sitting cross-legged
on her bedroom floor, watching
our trembling hands cradle,
and weep, and
try to learn how
to cut each other
complements
from our jagged edges.

please forgive my quiet.
I’ve been listening to God,
and men, and
trying to live down
each of my
days, my dreams
haven’t come ‘round
as often as nightmares have; it’s scary
when you can’t let go, and you
have more reasons to wake
up tomorrow than to
sleep tonight.

“he reached for her leave(s) /
autumn wrapped ‘round his hands, and /
said she missed him, too”

if you’d not jumped, you’d /

have never found that rocks are /

more feather than bone

Have you ever
looked at a cliff,
or a ledge, or
a box-cutter, or a
car crash; a
set of lips getting ready to smile,
or a set of hands getting
ready to hold you,
and said…

I have to?

"are you scared?"

"No, I  /

just sleep with all the lights on /

in case she comes home.