I have been practicing form
with many curls of graphite on paper
between soft blue and white lines
scratching hollow hearts in repetition
until they bend into V’s:
that very shape children turn birds into.

Careful and careless with my heart
as I am with the storm cloud of little ones
on my pages
flurried into place by my absent mind
I am absent
I am filled to my throat with smoke,
the desire to take flight,
absent in thoughts of you.

The shape of an arrowhead,
Eros’ penetrating tip.
The angle of a woman’s *******.
The bend of a wishbone ready to snap.
These could all be called
the shape of love

but my love will always be a bird too high, a V windbound,
that I will pin to my fridge with a magnet
and look at every other Sunday
when I remember it.

"are you
still in love
with me?"

asked the moon
with tears
flowing down
her cheeks

"i am afraid
that i
no longer am."

answered him
as he vanished
from the sky

the setting sun
leaving the world dark
leaving the moon behind

I saw a quick smile today
I hit the deck by the way
A surprise attack you see
It was pointed right at me
I'll return fire but slow
Cause I'm way low on ammo

She flits
Through my mind
And I
Feel her
Laughter
In my bones
As joints
Release
With a pop.
She rests
Around the edges
Of my mind
And I feel
Her burdens
As I
Reach into
Growth.
She gazes
Into my eyes
And I
Recognize
Myself in grey
As breath fills
My body,
Making room
For all
Of what
Could be.