11/4/2021

You brought watercolors
to a barn raising
The whole room stared at us
both
You always feel welcome:
a red lip with a nude dress
not a wine stain on white linen
But some, too many, might suggest:
a fly in the soup
a bullet hole in the chest
Your fingers dance across the room
I pull armor from my heart
You, a butterfly
fluttering
inside a net
surrounded by minuten pins
magnifying glass
As I hold my breath
same
the day you were born
praying, ten fingers and toes
Forgetting
there was more to
whisper
into my hopes
against your dreams