A weight has been lifted from my shoulders,
placed beside me
where I can see it and laugh at the things I felt
when my eyes were closed.

No matter how much clothing I remove
it is still too difficult to see what's
underneath my skin unless
I am using your eyes as a mirror.

The women dancing on the wall have not shown me anything
and my mother seems to think they have.
somewhere out there, you are lost in a moment
a bottle of pinot noir
and a pack of cigarettes you smoked when you were young.

The air is softer than it was before,
your skin is softer than it was before,
my mind tends to paint things more beautifully than they were before.
Though we're falling from the face of the earth,
I'm not afraid of where I'll land.
Somehow, I know there will be room for me to stand in between one line
and the next—
and within that space, enough room for my heart to
expand and contract
in the steady motion of breathing