Our voices crack along the edges,
where they run together and then quickly
fall away. Dust on our shoulders
echoes "I love you" and we brush
our fingers in our silver words.
In all the days our silence ran over
our lips, catching a lisp and a laugh,
we built up a resistance to keeping
our arenose vows to ourselves, alone.
Mine and yours and the space of ours
cresting in the place between our lungs.
I've never loved the dust swept into sun
as much as I do when we swell the air.
No comments:
Post a Comment