I take things and lay them out to dry

they are long and I can't see them

not yet

they will take shape and become

when they dry

and I will continue to stir things

with wooden spoons and love

with my very porous heart

and the grass will grow sharper

and the shadows will gather

to whisper about the coming

change

There are things I would like to say to you
and my legs are tight with them

my muscles want to say things to you too -
that line you like so much on my thigh

is even more defined now.

These things, they have collected inside me
swelling my belly for a time but now

they sneak out in my sweat and I find your name
familiar again, in the tongue of my mind.

I was a memory you didn't have -
 a feeling in the gut when you woke

and you were a ghost of yourself on the other side
of a glass wall, your eyes bowls of hurt

the way I imagine they looked as a child,
your blond head tilted to a sky that would only rain,

your ears filling with drops until
the world was a muted song.