My heart is a darkroom
you pass through it
black and white images
I cut you into size
and paste a collage.
My dreams are of flying over rivers, Missouri rivers deep green flecked with tangled weeds, I stare into the water and see nothing. You are the other side of me you leave me calm and healed.
I become a seed
blown by an unseen wind.
I turn to you and listen to the riddle, only the waves make no noise as they slap the flat shingle, passers by stare at us;
we whittle the air
into spirals of incense.
Burning wind on my skin, take a brush to brush you with, you a fawn covered in dark downed hair.
The voice is the carrier of the soul
all those stars branded across Milky way.
How many heavens can we see tonight?