Isolated

Yesterday my bed felt like a planet

turning and drifting

suspended in space and time

and there I laid

I felt the gravity of the covers

keeping me down

keeping me here

This planet has no life—

only me in a queen sized

I lay leftward, expecting

-//-

Prop up the pillow against the wall and

lean back, dragging the tapestry down

The tacks don’t do well in

holding things up

Out here under the blanket,

I can hear the music but when

I’m alone, I can’t hear the rain

I want to hear it ringing

so loud that I can’t find

where we left ourselves

-//-

A furnace can be dangerous

if the fire within isn’t contained

it keeps on burning

and the heat rises

The smoke breathes new life

which fans out for miles

shaping the land and creating

space for itself

Engulfing everything to nothing

Or perhaps it meets

another fire—just as hungry,

just as lonely

-//-

The only thing more dangerous

than fire—

two pairs of lips

-//-

When the last grain of sand from

the hourglass falls,

in that moment, time ceases

There is no tide and there is no wind

The pinecones suspend on their journey to

the dirt and the conifers freeze over

like the first frost

That pair of shoes dangling from the electrical

wires above stop trying to free themselves from

the chokehold those wires have on them

The wires change back from ropes in a

double-dutch game to stunted cables

The traffic lights remain red and the

cars below stand in the city lights

Just for one moment

when a kiss is held

And then the hourglass turns over

-//-

Forever terrifies me

where will my soul go

after time

does it go on

how long does it go on

But with you—

I might just want to spend forever with