i.
i ask you only
to remember me
as a statue
in that
despite the earth’s
rapid
furious
careening through space

ii.
i am still.

iii.
i appear made of
stone, sometimes, but you need
only tap me on the shoulder
to know.
(life leaves its
marks and
sometimes bandages
don’t do it justice.

iv.
sometimes walls have doors
that can only be
opened
from the inside.)

v.
your heart weighs on you
for each day
it is filled further
and you daren’t let any
spill over. but what
you must remember, dear
friend, is that

vi.
as the universe of possibilities
extends forever
outward, so does
that space in your chest
reserved for such things as
love, inward.

vii.
i am here. i stand
at the head
of your terracotta army, laying
in wait underground, unmoving
until called. i am
dust
and i am dirt
but i am one of many, and

viii.
i will protect you.

you with your
ink
and your words
which drift over air, carried
on currents of
seamless eloquence.

ix.
i am a
statue, in that
i can always be found.

x.
i am still.