this opening in my head, hard to
define, opening, closing, like breath, heartbeat, the crescent
through which I see winter, the drift, the lonesome, icicle, the
beasts of wind and starlight,
we have a prayer, may there be
forest, light, a soft landing for those who dare too thin
branches, may there be spring, berries, slower wolves,
this opening in my head, hard to
touch, my forearms are numb, fishlike, I've been laying on them
awkwardly, what if I must run?, hold still on the precipice?, the
bark is slippery, slick with rain, with ice, do I have the
strength, the patience to go unobserved?,
the nest closes, the nest opens, this
opening in my head, a soft spot, I am tender for her, in her
blood, wrapped, we are earmuffs for each other, as the heartbeat
slows its timing improves, synchronized, I wake when her heart
speeds, skips, think spring, run, gather, it is here!, to be
deluded once again, the winter, the drift, it must have been REM,
that acceleration in her, that excitement,
does she wake when my heart throbs
oddly, disturbed by my changes like I am roused by hers?,
does she wake when I kick, turn, reposition myself?,
like underwater, the noises of the
world in dream, the voices of the loggers, the sleigh riders
merry, a boy shooting sparrows with a slingshot, music from the
road,
she puts her hand on her stomach and
laughs, come feel it, little squirrels
