when it feels like the subway tunnels
are caving in around you and
i’m not there to clear the rubble
remember how the light
reflects off my skin no matter
where the sun is.
the thing about the patterns
in the sky is that they’re not there
to please the floating lovers
who know they’ve got the atmosphere
trapped inside the space between
their palms. the sky is there
when all you see are concrete walls.
the atmosphere is blowing through
your hair and rushing through
your veins whether the lovers are
puzzle piece close or hemisphere far.
with all the soulstuff winding through us
i swear you can pretend
i’m the sky — boundless past the
tunnels, past everything that’s
smothering you.
together we can merge entire oceans.