Nothing calms me like
the thought of our bones
decaying, intertwined.

As strange as it might sound,
this image of us forever
fills my whole heart and soul.

Buried beneath grass and mud,
somewhere in the bedrock
we’ll one day rot away,

become a part
of the Earth that gave us life,
returning to its arms together.

My hand on your skull,
your fingers on my hip,
we’ll calcify as one,

becoming single atoms,
becoming, once again,
mere droplets of the universe.

you are the garden
of forked paths
every reality becomes possible

i now float
where once i sank
who brought me here?
unfurl the thread
and guide me out

lead my hands
along the contours of your form
melted wings are anchors now

I cracked a vase today.
Setting it down, to aggressively,
the porcelain split
but did not break.

For some reason
I picked it up
and felt the fissures deepen
so again I set it down.

Now I'm unsure
whether it should stay
on the windowsill or not,
can anything fill its space?

An absence would be strange
but maybe change is good,
no ring of dust around the base,
no white reflecting rays of sun.

For now I'll leave it there
with a flower standing dumb,
hoping no more cracks appear
in the vase I've owned so long.