this is the dream
we have all been waking from,
will eventually unravel
only to find deeper and deeper threads
it is not a mystery -
the motion of our bodies
the shifting of the stars
the strum of a string
the ghost of a kiss
we hold these things-
coins, change, tiny metal circles
that remind us
of green copper
a lucky day
the slow bending of light
these are not my hands
but they are the only hands i know -
but no, that is not true either -
the hands of every lover
have been my own
their mouths have spoken the tides of my memory
we pulled shells and tangled of kelp from the silences
and laid them out under the sun to remember
ourselves
each other
but truly,
there is no distinction
if i were to follow this tongue of sunlight
to it's center,
i would not remember any of this -
the red couch
the whir of the stove
the lines of the floor
the tea stained cups
there would only be
there
& i
would be
wordless
<3
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