The Underscore is like Holding Your Breath

I want to say

that I am waiting.

But that

is a lie. I wait

for no one. Want

for nothing / for everything

is (d)elusive. An acid

etched trip through a twisted

psyche o'er a road

without guideposts. I want

for the brilliant air to crackle

Crisp & clear. And to be(come)

hollow. I want for electric

pulse to quicken. To breathe.

Thunder. For hips unhinged

in the quake. For the rain

thereafter.

***

My dress carries the memory of you

the way the moon carries the light. Shatters

the night. Breathless & unhinged. Exhalent

thunder in perfect timing as comets mount

& moor the sky.

***

I want to make maps of the rain

with you. Chase the storm

through breaking quietude.

The grit of the field - fresh

on my face. August blush

trailing ahead of your hands.

Your mouth.

I want to make maps of the rain

with you. Until we become

the storm.