in the middle of everything you are to me
you are a tight grip I’ll never have
a fist clenched
on a weak arm
my foreign  hand, always ready to turn over
to goodbye

someone told me live dangerously
and so I smoked cigarettes,
you and I
by the ocean in foggy aches
and I got on the back of your bike

so I edged in and out of your bed
at starlight’s hours
a sink full of your sadness
because I didn’t want you to feel alone

so I thought of being a tree
and if you needed me, you could have my leaves
and my branches and if you were tired
I'd be a stump you could sit on

but because of that whisper dusk in the sand by your sister’s house
when you told me you and I told you me
and the air gleamed in a reflection
I opened my eyes and there was you
placed carefully in front of me

and with both sides of the edge visible,
ephemeral graces gave me their secret

and when you asked me to kiss you,
one thousand voices of providence,
silver threaded stitches
sank my soul to touch on you

bruised by the impact of a human being

and it was nothing to you
but it mattered to me