In my fuzzy, tumbling mornings
You are still the light of day
Even if it’s only last night’s matches,
And I exaggerate the flame

If I’ve been ejected from the sky and shot through a forest canopy,
Only my torn clothes to hold as I walk the amazon, dehydrated for days,
Then you are the rain


When I wake wrapped in hot skin
Layers of itching ash, fallen paper-thin
Too frozen from the smoking door to reach the window
You are a headlamp
And a deep voice of salvation any trapped creature would know

I am the sea to your sky
I create your blue and you pull me