each morning

everything new

wherein sometimes she finds herself up against the aimless drift

it is a known entity he finally gave a name to

it is a wondering and a world as well

a circuitous change being born again and again

and it is even the mundane

(which she has always considered to be the other, an opponent

and so this marriage disquiets her)

and at other times she finds herself at the edge

seeking defilement

or a hard storm

only a thin screen between herself and all the elements:

electricity and earth,

water and sky

pink salt on her tongue

taking all of him inside

thinking less of her delicacy

and more of her need

open to the story he might vine within her

and his capacity to pull that forever soft song from her

more in the here and now, but also in the way back then:

leavetakings and promise

but, most essentially, tonight and tomorrow

considering bed and bloom

speaking the truth

be it circuitous and mundane

known and unknown

exquisite and precious

be it him or you, her or me

the escape we seek is all here and there

and now and then

in the heated dryer sheets meant to smell like islands

in the space between our bodies

in our breath

my eyes

your memory

and it aches and remembers

and stretches

because what else is there

but that which we perceive it to be



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