the space between us
is measured in spoons of intent
and hidden to both of us
spaces make room for life and quicksand
and our talking paints the door
for surrender to enter
I show you polaroids,
you tell stories
that rumble low in your chest
and till my soil
I’m chewing your hope in my mouth
moving it around with my tongue
keeping it supple
and ready for travel
Our lights are coming in.
They won’t leave hope any room here.