on the borderline, simple
thoughts guide breathing
patterns out from
the front porch: i
dream we
abscond, out through
blurred fencelines in
low light we trickle
through pockets of
wheat, the tumult of
everything under a
moon first distant,
gleaming and moving
creeks in your skin, pale
gold like i so often imagine
your eyes would turn
under the soft parting of
my lips. a ghost yet
unmade. haunted i, already.

in dreams, i do not have
you but
still, you take me by
the hand, utter warm silence,
make small motions, closer
by the day. i take out
my hairs one by one, clog
the sink a
tiny bit more. build an
ocean. sail to make
us, halfway. a wider
range, the only way out
a kiss on the wind. i
sent myriads, all lost;
still, maybe someday you'll
find one.

out under three thousand
shining points unstitching,
we mutually profess undying
nothing and graze skin. my
fingertips will never know
you.