I am a small poem on a
page with room for another.

Share with me this white field,
wide as an acre of snow,
clear but for these tiny
markings like the steps of birds.

Come now.
This is the trough of the wave,
the seconds after lightning.
Thin slice of silence
as music ends,
the freeze before melting.

Lie down beside me.
Make angels.
Make devils.
Make who you are.”