erosion 

i want to erode 
mountains with you--
i don't remember a lot from
9th grade physical science
but i do remember that
the rocky mountains are
supposedly getting taller each
year while the appalachians 
are getting smaller
as a part of the process of
erosion-- 
the rain pours over
the rocks-- our faces--
smoothing out our
jutting edges-- our noses
become smooth boulders to
knock into each other 
tight as knee bones in
the joints of this mouth--
open wide & show me
your evergreen
teeth-- snap rocks with
root & tongue-- 
oh & then came the ice  
as early as October here--
creeping inside the 
freckles of the limestone &
expanding
to the size of the moon
or your own body
on a july night when 
you turn 18 years old
& wonder why your body has
yet to turn into a star
or at least a dying mountain--
you wait patiently but
your femurs are stone--
the process of erosion
is a story of linking 
elbows & burying
your arm bones
in your own backyard--
a story of 
crawling beneath 
the boulder & sacrificing
the skeletons 
from inside our ears--
i don't know you yet
but i want to ask
you to take your feet &
with me-- become a process of
my erosion-- 
let's wear
down these appalachians--
watch the mountain 
side shrink to fit
inside the palms of our hands--
hold the tiny mountains 
up to our ears like conch shells
& listen for the faint call
of a hawk--
set out our shrunken summits
on our desks & write
each other into stories--
into femurs--
into stone to be
eroded by rain &
each other's canvas shoes--
let's kiss these peaks
back into the earth--
unbury our arm bones
from the backyard & 
feel ourselves 
ever so slowly
eroding into stars--