I adore your gentle breathing, lying in my bed;

My plant has chosen you with drops of water on your head.

I adore you leaning over, blowing out the light;

Your lips will be my candle, burning through the night.

My mother was never superstitious

until she lost faith in her body—

with each new opaque mass,

her doctors uncovered

another dark star.

She started aligning furniture

with compass rose gardens,

Last night I was called
to the front lines
where life and death battle it out
and no one ever knows
who will stay, who will go
or what, in the end, it’s really all about

1.
I lost you at hello

2.
Scars knit
intended wounds
over time
under clothes
same as accidental

threads of cloud drape the hill

     like lace over a crib

drops of cloud fill the puddle

     like pearls in a bowl of tea

drape my face

     fill my mouth

be not the cloud