love has a language but no
gender; i'm fluent in long
stares into the windows of a
soul, but lately i've been
out of ledges. i kneel beside
the glass and feel the wind
fly flush against the clear
nothing that separates me
from his stormy arrival—
the welcome brewing in my
bones. The minute i find him,
the second his spirit ossifies
into olive skin, the moment
i feel my roads heading some
where that is not my own
darkness, i will capitalize my
i's, enter the unknown and
excavate, feel the rush of the
earth as it spins me in the
cradled grasp of the atmosphere oh
yes; i see him holding up the
horizon, though he looks like the
sun — in time, i will spill into the
sea to meet him at the water's edge.