Its gray,
cool and lazy
4pm embryos of winter
the birds don’t let your presence
get to them
they know
there is enough
room on the earth (we do not)
unfold our arms
and you
anxious and your lips
reminds me
how I’d forgotten
hungry elbows
embracing the blue ache
my yellow eyes
sometimes I don’t understand
quietly rushing
you say “I’ve exposed so much”
but when I watch
things are much deeper
and I feel the weight of it
four walls
your nightmares
I don’t want to move
either hand
this morning
sleeping with you against
the radiator
waking heavy
pale open thighs yours
are covered with patterns
from crumpled sheets
we undo
ourselves
your hands expose
everything
weeping tiny holes
I couldn’t say
what it is, the yesterday
that prays inside us
the worn blanket
or tomorrows under the single light bulb
its things I see
and I’d like to keep
someplace close
to forgive myself
if it ever mattered
immersed in all this sky
to gasp
and touch the waves of air
or return to where I was born
over so many moments
cutting open
it shakes
itself clear
that man over on the bench
transcendental sounds
it reminds me of these
small glories.