It’s Quiet

The covers wear into their inevitable softness

Let the sheers shudder over a crying morning

Fall into a blushing night

There is someone always reaching into the center of the knot

There is a crooked finger

A scratching nail

A freckled chest takes the bullet

How could I do anything but,

O,

And o,

I’m learning swan dives in the key of delusions on high

But there is someone many-limbed, hands outstretched

There is a net of appendages

I watch the sprouting of arms on the heart of patience

Watch the cradle of my body against concrete

Feel the statues buckle

I miss the sound of echoes

See here, how we build a tolerance

And o,

I walk, not run, from the wreckage

But,

How could I do anything without

Staying

I drag knees to sleep inside you

You won’t have to ask

I scrape my way to roll against you

And o,

How could I do anything but,

Lace my bones into your frame

And o,

How I learn to stay