tablespoon poem

i have lived my life one tablespoon at a time.
this is about how much you're allowed
to swallow. the birds that come & make nests
in the smallest of places. voles who carve songs 
through dark. i would put the sky
on my tongue just to feel a star flicker.
i buy more tablespoons. i am always afraid
of running out. what would i do if i could
no longer measure how much i'm allowed
to want? sometimes we pass barns & i dream
of owning one. of filling it with hay & laying there.
looking up at a tablespoon-sized hole
in the roof. there, the angels crawl in with their
many eyes & many legs. i can feel things shrinking.
the size of our hands. the size of our gods. 
i pray inside tablespoons. i fight inside tablespoons.
i know that i will die inside a tablespoon. 
when i was a girl i used to eat from the peanut butter jar
just one tablespoon at a time. my tongue.
little prophet. i do not feel like i want very much.
the door with a snake inside. the mailbox
full of wings. i once dug my tablespoon
into cream cheese container & the neck snapped off.
i imagined going in with my hands. 
no spoon. no borders. just the hunger & how
far it would drive me. knees & wood. 
i am most sorry that i often put my love
into a tablespoon. feed it to my darlings 
as if it is enough. i want to believe in abundance
but i have seen a row of houses burn to 
the ground. i have felt my ribs turn 
to feathers. coughed them out. i have dreamed recklessly 
& without release. give me the keys to the moon.
i want to drive it until it fits in the bath 
& then i want to lay there, skin glowing bright.