we sit on the edge of fortune


                                              the roof deck gets us close to the clouds.

                                              we lie back and circle our big toes in the air;

                                               i outline a star; you make half a heart.

                                               i reach up higher, poking my toes deeper towards the sky,

                                               but the clouds don’t break.


                                               we learn words exist to scratch an itch

                                               in the backs of our throats. sometimes i have to dig deeper;

                                               but only silence.

                                               you say you know, don’t worry about it. so we both mouth

                                               the syllables together. i smile because you’re an echo

                                               from somewhere deep within me.


                                               vacuums are for outer space, or gathering the remnants

                                               of yesterday’s argument. we exist in one;

                                               sealed tightly, spoiling slowly.

                                                i do best at night–i’m most honest in the dark.

                                                your hand finds mine and undoes the last six years;

                                                i’m perfectly still next to you and think about clouds.


                                                we sit on the edge of fortune,

                                                the ledge as thin as playing cards, inside a glass house

                                                stones and opinions in clear view all around.

                                                orchids thrive in low sunlight, little water.

                                                we outgrow our humble pot.


                                                 listen here, i say.

                                                 the sun doesn’t rise with me. i was born

                                                 beneath the moon’s rays, so excuse my moods,

                                                 falling and rising with the tides.

                                                 we learn love can fill a room, a house;

                                                 it ascends, high and warm. we hold tight, eyes closed.


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