i am more tender

than the medium can handle

i am tired of tapping, tired

of being tapped

i buckle under

another weightless morning

where everything glows, everything

opposite sunrise

I want to talk about how nothing disappears. No, not even them. No, not even you, when you’ve lost yourself.

soft to the touch

the earth, roughed with

impressions of us

two feet on its surface

or sitting, or holding

we touch the skin

i do not know what to call the god i pray to—

only that the names i’ve given them have made them too small—

It’s the shadow on the wall

the sun not on her face

but the back is warm

it has been

fastball

bat snap

road-runner

whiplash

once, i was not healing

i was healer

i was toddler

i was laughter

sometimes i turn my face towards the sun

close my eyes

feeling its daunting heat on my skin,

i melt into the awareness of my existence

-i-

i know what it’s like to hold on

like at six—when you clenched a fist

full of rocks from the playground

wrapping your sweaty fingers around

fool's gold

i have triangles for teeth

they stick out from the side

and maybe two times

out of ten

this feels like a gift

of imperfection

i don’t mean you’ve got to lean on yourself

i mean you’ve got to lean into yourself

i mean: lean your back on the wall that you built

i don’t mean turn your back on it

our friendship is a memory

a rug pulled out from under me

a light brown rectangle

on a dark wooden floor

unprotected and exposed

the moon walked me home

stole glances

between branches of trees

peeked

around sides of buildings

kept looking at me like—

everyone’s talkin’ a big game

i’m lookin’ for patterns from a

bird’s eye view

big words, no news

free throws, no hoop

smells like summer rain

like heat rising after the storm

like thick air and messy hair

like unexpected downpour

i love the way the crepe myrtles

confetti our cars

our trash cans

the part of the sidewalk i've never paid attention to

it’s like a seed bursting

disastrously open

in the hopes that 

something comes out of it 

to feel the heartbreak in the longing

to hope when you're a fool believing

to try when nothing will be easy

i drove past

three pedestrians sporting

lime green t-shirts, floating 

down the sidewalk 

in my periphery

so i sat and diddled— 

distracted— 

until my devices died

and i, overdosed, had no choice

but to dive