11/27

multiverse

we wash our hands in the rain.
eat pudding on the porch 
& do not fall in love. i watch you
turn into a lightning bolt.
dirt breathes. rocks kneel.
you take care of me using
knitting needles. i am as small
as a passing elsewhere. days 
fit into our back pockets.
i cut my nails. i cut my hair.
you miss me deeply & so you travel
from one side of the planet 
to the other. time is made
of wax & then fire. the solitary candle.
my hand on your back. oh you used to
want to take me apar just how i needed.
a curtain catches & engulfs the whole universe.
don't worry there are others 
in which we struggle just the same.
here inside my own we sit 
in a dinner booth & talk like brothers.
how am i supposed to wear my body
in exactly the way you like?
i remember another bead. i counted on
your elbows. you wrote a scripture 
across my hipbones. kneels to read aloud.
god was always a pile of feathers.
pushing around to find an animal
at the center just to encounter the needle.
throwing an old pair of shoes
over an electric wire. in the other world
we float them like viking funerals.
you promise me "next time, next time."
this is the other you & not the one
whose hair is eaten by the wind.
november once smoldered & reddened.
now, a simple leg muscle.
i have no more room in my desires
to fit another bone. you rest your head
against my chest. i become
a chocolate mousse. soft on your tongue.
gone. clouds darn mourning clothes.
it rains. our shoes float past.

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