gulliver i want to build you a tiny house-- one small enough to fit in the top drawer of your desk-- i crouch on my speckled carpet: desk lamp sun-- nanoscale hammers & nails my fingers are too big for this-- i feel gigantic & i think about my brother who read gulliver's travels he was most afraid of the land of giants as opposed to the land of small people-- i feel like a small person & a giant at the same time-- 6 inches tall with my head breaking through the shingles of the roof-- glass in my hair-- tooth pick femurs-- you wished you had started planning your tiny house earlier-- you wanted to build one on your own but you didn't say where-- i pictured it like one of those HGTV shows a wild backyard-- grass ocean-rippling-- mountains framing the skyline with jagged god-teeth-- do you want to build yourself smaller? do you want to crouch on your hands & knees enough times so that you stand 6 inches tall? i'm making the doorway now-- i measure my open mouth as a template-- i want to be a house some days-- small & with one back window above the kitchen sink-- i want a mantle to take off memories on photographs from underneath my tongue-- prayer cards from funerals-- i'll leave the bed room only big enough to hold me-- walls of my wingspan-- loneliness is big & small-- tell me-- did gulliver envy them? with their rare bodies? & i wanted to know if you intended on keeping company-- i can fit in the smallest of closets-- i can be the miniature on your end table-- or you can keep me on the top shelf of your medicine cabinet-- i mean the one inside the tiny house-- right now you live too far away-- more than a wing span-- when you open your desk & find me i will fit in the palm of your hand-- pick me up gently-- this is an invitation to be smaller-- this is me with the leftover bolts & screws-- they'll never find people here-- microscopic us-- our heads of pins-- our tomatoes plants on the porch the size of aphids when you kiss me it will be so quiet that only we can hear--