someone must hear all the silences
they rise out of us like steam on hot days
and just hiss on the cold ones
but not like a reptile, mostly like the crack of release
planes taking off and turning down
my mind shuts preventing what i think about thinking:
this is going to be beautiful.
a closet kept romance with
falcons beating at the door
fingers crossed eyes crossed beaks steadied
and we're lost quickly
decoding unlocking shifting
the pattern the wood grain makes when i tilt my head this way
the eyes you shut, the lids you saw with
and then you, with a handful of words--only endings
you shrugged
as i tossed you an -ed.