I knew your laugh
before I heard it.
I felt your warmth
before you touched me.

We stayed side by side
even in silence
even as time ran ahead.

We stayed side by side
in the quiet of us.

I want to be your scarf,
So soft and mohair,
To warm you in snowfalls
And even in rainy autumn.

I will embrace your neck
Like a mother cradles her child.
I’ll save the warmth for you.
Put on the scarf, be so kind.

I want to be your scarf.
Oh, don’t wear scarfs? Well now,
If I can’t softly warm you,
I’ll be your skin somehow.

the leaves sway and catch sunlight
and i catch both against my cheek
and chase them down to my throat,
crush them into each other into me
into chamomile: a trickling summer

i drown in sword-shorn grasses and
in return for breath they write on
my skin in languages that have never
been spoken, only sung only felt
only studied with one dirt-painted
fingertip, fine hairs punctuating
pink brown imprints of trodden earth

ants count dozens of steps, climbing
the winding train tracks (and rocks
sleeping beneath) of my wrists legs
nose and untraveled stomach, and i
let them travel; let my body be gravel
become highway become interstates to
ugly and restful towns diners hotels

and even as sunlight burns my eyes
and bobcats stalk past forests beyond
the reach of my oven-warm wind-wound
open palm, ground allows its drinks to
seep into my sweatpants desert skin
and curls: an oasis i carry on my back

I like the sun in winters
On cold cold days
The way it beams sunshine
So warmly my way
I soak in the light
As the day calls
Bright molten gold
That from the sky, falls

His hands were warm,
But he was dead inside.

Every time I fall, I think of you,
No matter how I fall, no matter when I do.
In moments of despair, It is you that i find there,
Your presence fills the air, no emotions can compare to me with you.
When I stumble and the world feels cold,
Your memory is a warmth, a hand to hold.

dawn light -
the weight of the air
settles in