i don’t know what to tell you on the
nights that pull on your spirit like stones
pinning dresses to the bottom of the
river, don’t know how to lift
something with no edges from
a mercurial body. i don’t know
how to speak like the teeth of a key
to the shadow in your stomach.
i only have this small song of
breath that keeps choosing to
come back to me & the fullest
quiet to keep me company three
hours before sunrise & the bladed
grace that this sadness never leaves
without teaching me something.
