early evening at the lake house
let’s see if we can fit our bodies
between these trees,
move like sunlight, breathe
in golden quivers:
to love like this is easy,
carving meaning
on your chest in half moons--
i’m light and light and light dances, swims
on the lake, sun-spotted lake, filtered
through a window caught and cobwebbed,
my mother tells me she loves this time of day,
rough white couch that catches, caught
thoughts through rings of time,
and moments cut space quick, before the night,
hold on tight.
to love like this is not easy.
i’m light and it’s half past five,
sun-spotted world like lace, pulsing, restless water,
press my wrist and try to really hear it:
long drive
four pm and the light makes everything pale.
trees jagged as bones, shadow-splotched,
street signs wording ways to enter.
it feels good to think, drifting wonder,
i don’t take it for granted anymore.
crowded cars, cloud-crowded sky,
steering wheel hums beneath my hand.
i am careful how i think about you,
i wish i didn’t need so much more.
buildings loom, ripe sky i want to take a bite,
wheels lick dust and concrete crackles,
tie me in the wires they speak through,
muted worlds, unnamed voices,
let me listen, i’ll be anticipating,
buzzing as white noise.
momentum towards the city,
suspended over water, rippled skin.
flickering red stretching ahead,
square rows of windows awakening orange.
i want to get it all inside,
i want more, to fill this space with scream.
i’m ready for something to freeze or melt:
any sort of extreme.