seeping into the verdant green of our posthumous lawn
with our wide eyes clipped and the noonday sun...
folding sparrows into cloth and breaking bread for no reason.
stumped on the miracle, but ludicrous and undone.

it takes everything you ever wanted
to get what you got.
it doesn't take more than you know
only the spin of your want.
we sleep in the hills, where the valley squall
is crushed... but our love is just enough
to be in it.