Now

Under the sky’s silhouette

our eyes run rivers

and the heat of our hearts shiver

The mantling is heavy

and expansive;

and what should be warm

is afraid

The space between our fingers is none.

The air between our mouths is gone.

But the worlds between our hearts are laden

with fleshly chests

The flesh is heavy,

and cold;

and what should be certain

is painful

The rain goes away,

the stars twinkle,

and the treetops rock,

as we play hide-and-seek

Count to twenty,

and no peeking.

Next door, sleep lovers.

Next door, they run around.

And next door, they go outside

But no peeking

And next door, sleep Jack and Jill

I wanted to write about the importance of ourselves in times of despair. It turned into a poem about needing love.

Such is life.