- Hands down, in my heart
I hear
you may never know
that I keep a clean sink
or that my muscles run parallel
to my spine with the power
to take suitcases of loneliness
from your hands.
- But I sincerely hope
we are more than our
four hours of accidental
teenage combustion of
drunkjoy all armed up
in the day that all my being
alone gave pause to listen
for the white noise of
the trophy soul
I think I heard in you.
- I am the dog
that lies
against the draft
of the door into your heart
where the framework is
neither young nor old
because
in the floorboards
your heart
only
beats
true.
- I soak these hands
in the water
in the minutes on your shoulders;
they tell the secrets as
I unpack
from
between
the beat.
I heard it.
In the spaces
between,
the spaces we exist silently
vespertine
and in my astonishment
I can hear
I acknowledge
I desire
you to be adored exceptional
in my hands
without time.
