we dreamt of a hiding place in
costa rica
with stars hung low on their strings
where I filled the bathtub
     running lukewarm
     across the back of my hand
     and you took a drink of cold cold water
     to calm your bones

and the sky wakes up warm
over the prime meridian
where we lift our eyes like lovers
and focus on the new dew, the old dawn
spilling out over the lawn
     your hands tight with callouses
     and my shaking brittle bones
     walls rich, in photographs of palaces
     and all our broken homes.