We pull things to us,
try to cloak, clothe and comfort ourselves
but every new layer stifles,
leaves a polyester itch.
Why didn't I hug you harder,
visit more, stay longer,
let my hand linger in yours?
Why didn’t we sit side by side
every chance we had?
You come here listening
for you don’t know what,
as if you lost something,
as if here you’ll see the answer
riding in on the waves…
Unlike going for a walk, when walking the labyrinth there is no sense of trying to outpace the feelings, resolve them, shake them off or leave them behind.
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I’m tired of the promise of more,
and how it always makes me
feel less.
How much can one possibly need?
We watched and it wasn’t a movie and
none of us could leave.
Something was lost.
I gather fallen limbs,
handle lichened bones
with reverence,
returning them
to the base of their tree.
Sleepless elbows and knees find my hip,
shin, and the tender bone under my eye,
my body remembering a knot of child
kneading my bladder, stealing my breath,
stamping footprints on my belly…