Reaching Up And Over
01.16.07

I want a morning
spent in pocket change
and the plucked-string closeness
of bodies feigning sleep,
prolonging the spell
slanting through our blinds.

I want an afternoon
sprawled on a homemade blanket
still prickling with our last picnic,
magnifying the sky
and searching for eggshell signs.

I want an evening
tugging curtains closed
as the night yields answers
to our blunt wonderings,
spoken with the abandon
of an endless supply.

I want to tie these snippets
of yarn we elevate to “moments”
into a kaleidoscopic ball so knotted
I can never unravel it again.