While the machine stoked panic to drive us apart, it was possible to choreograph the rests to allow all dancers to converge, an encounter in which each I gave way to eyes.
Flower
One possibility
Tag: flower
Efflorescence
An offering
Call the mind a flower atop the stem of someone swaying, fragile, rooted. Call its opening an invitation to the ones in flight. Like, come and see. Take part of me when you leave.
Soils
Of intentions and nourishment.
Born carried away, of a desire that will neither die nor introduce itself by name to a stranger, it becomes obvious that I am that, too. So taken––from every place and the self, too––I cannot arrive.
At the end of everything, when the flow continues, so does this singular insistence. Bleed.
Hand opens soil to hide these delicate hopes, even at the end and especially then. Flower? Maybe. Of course, they will be trampled, as lives are. And yet. They will live, too. There is no certainty in this, but there it goes, happening.
Bloom
Budding notes.
Who is the creature in this jungle of words, coiling from crown to neck, vining spirals across the chest, tight against breath, against pivot of hips and swing of the leg into step? Bound like this, there is nothing to do but wait, bouncing toes until they rest, splayed flat in damp earth until whatever holds me here starts pulling. If this were a poem, it would end the way other things end, with flowers.