a pious thing

here,
where the wind
has left us
& sleep sounds
like heat

my chest
a series of ribs
& my chest
a series of ribs
& in my chest
all the vowels
of your name

i hold the land
in two palms
the land unfolding
in my two palms
lupines growing
from my two palms
& your bare feet
walking in between them

our veins feed
the land &
our bare feet &
the lupines &
my heart
is the size of a star
for you my heart
is the edge
of a river &
my heart feels so
held by you,
your head is in my lap
& we are staring
at the southeast

saying, ‘home’
saying, ‘land’
saying, ‘here,
where the wind
has left us
& sleep sounds
like heat’

saying, ‘the
gardenia is
a pious thing…
the soft sweet gentle
heaviness of it’

.mille.

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