**

i know you’re tired and high but we need to discuss what the storm is doing right now it’s like an angel that only appears at the end of childhood you may wonder if this is a poem what are the stakes of the poem it has something to do with us staying together until we die year after year not talking about your body how at times it drips milk blood water leaking its shadows a type of spell where at nine months pregnant i still burned for you we cut a path to the lake a heartbeat floating in your belly and made love awkwardly on the shore trees stars electric lights from the hotel across the water to have no plan but to put my hands where you put my hands even now the part of my brain that imagines a spinal cord for each falling leaf is vulnerable to the void but your voice is a choir thousands of women telling me to walk and i walk walk walk streets turn to mud and i walk up the mountains walk off the cliff’s edge and keep walking carried by your vocabulary

**

One time tranquilized by ASMR videos i followed you out into the backyard to drink seltzer we saw a shooting star like green fire in the sky and walked between the toadstools you told me how they sprout overnight how they have names like fairy ring lobster hedgehog puffball lawyer’s wig how we could follow their roots for miles and miles without stopping and later i dreamed of a fox taller than me in the morning i sat down and wrote some lines about your hair