Always when I rise to go, your eyes blaze out from a face gone wickedly pale. Edna St. Vincent Millay
Here and now, I have only these hands,
this mouth, this skin as wide as a shoreline,
this beehive between my ears, this buzz, this buzz.
You are the best thing I never planned.
This is the widest I can stretch my arms without
dropping things. This is the first time I don’t care
if I drop things. This is what dropping
things feels like. This is what happens when
the flowers wake up one morning and decide to
smell human: it confuses us, makes us
reach backwards into places that are sharp,
feel around for things we’ve dropped. I have
forgotten what I was looking for. It doesn’t
seem important. You brought me flowers.
You made the bed. This is the widest I can
stretch my arms. This is all I have right now.