what is left

i almost named myself "remnant"
because i know myself best as the leftovers
of several kinds of fire. 
here is the gender footprints. the musk
of the huckleberries a week after all the birds
have feasted. a fossil of a complete human.
one with all the tongues & all the flesh. 
ladders unfurled from windows. 
the buildings we have escaped after
they turned bright & blazing. our shadows 
painted forever on the sidewalk.
in the apocalypse, i want to be a collector.
the one who says, "let's hang on 
to this pamphlet from the museum 
where we were in love for just a few 
more years." i save train tickets. freedom routes
that have long gone belly-up. i don't know anymore
if there is such a thing as whole. instead, maybe,
a chain of remnants. a zoom out to 
our little glass of water. i want to float on my back.
give the comets a place to land. i hope 
they bring snacks. i hope they bring
flowers that i've never seen. i do not always
want to be a bridge but someone has
to be crossed on the way. once the great snow,
now my spit. i have changed before
& i will still change again.