from the silent skittle of insects unseen
and rushing of rivers in uninterrupted streams

- is

”If it didn’t rain, would the trees rise from the ground?”

you sent me a song, when it

streaks of sunlight against
your striped fur.

shadows made of shapes,
moving. these tiny

i want you

to gently take my heels off, one at a time.

i want your chest

under my head and

i thought i’d let it go - this anger

but sometimes it comes back. Like a dark figure at the edge

your smile, it radiates through time.

it trancends every bitter remark, every night spent