spring takes a breath
and the city is an open kind of empty
the inviting kind
has there always been so much space?
Ode to the breeze slinking between
window screen threads
and how we will not put on a sweater
This city is overflowing
this apartment bursting at the seams
with worry or
something else invisible
that everyone can see
But the sun threads its fingers through mine
we write poems about each other
my partner is smiling again
and we are having sex instead of lunch
Ode to the window chill and the forehead kisses
to the potted plants
to the little sister
who coughed out the winter
and woke up alive
I have been looking at the same cars
on the same street
and the same planted trees
who will be here long after
this empty space we made for fear
and what do they know about survival
but sunlight
Poems 