i want to make a home with you.
i will make tools for you from my ribcage,
and i will trust your gentle hands not to break them.

i will dig my brown hands
into the deep dark earth.
i will place fingerprints along the foundation’s walls,
lining it up with kisses and touch
so that our house never forgets how
gentle and raw my love is for you.

i will sob like a lost doe,
and i will let the droplets of water
race down my cheeks and chin
like a waterfall onto the glass
of our windows.
i will wash them with my tears
and dry them with bandages,
as a reminder that the storm will come
but it will not be forever.

i will take pieces of you
and pieces of me
and plant them under elderberry bushes.

i will sweep the floor
with eyelashes i find on your cheeks
and the locks that swirl in your hairbrush.
no dust dare cross the boundary
of lover and lover.

i will look for you in every corner
and pray in tongues around the house,
blessing our space with more God
than anyone ever thought we could handle.
i will lay scripture on our bedsheets
and love God with the fervor that i love you.

we will dunk our teabags in
hot cups of universe and stars,
we will dance in the living room in our socks
and laugh so loudly that the paint on the walls can’t help
but crinkle with a grin.

in every universe, i will be yours.
in every universe, you will be mine.
in every universe, we will be home.