← all posts
poetry

tectonic plates

There's a pillow between us
A sac of picked stories and soft 
Down,
A tiny body of water in the midst of our storied bodies
And every second we spend 
With your back to mine,
A pond grows into a lake
Becomes a stream
Becomes a river 
Becomes the sea
Becomes a tidal wave 
Becomes a roar in the sea, 
a tsunami
Becomes the distance 
between
A summer's monarch butterfly and the cold Alaskan tundra,
Where love lives in straw huts.
And every second we spend
With our hearts turned away from
The other's northern lights 
Is a year where we are lost at sea
Floating across the loose seams of a pillow,
Looking for a people
That have always held space for us
And
With the passing of time
A pillow is no different from 
a vengeful wall
When the moon's light seeping 
through curtains barely 
closed 
dulls your sensibilities.
And a pillow
Is a yes, muttered
Under the weight 
Of a girl scared of disappointment.