You are waking me 
I am thinking of you on that small stone 
That made the ocean its home
I wonder what it could have seen. 
 
What an emotion could really be
If it could be free from the object 
The bathing suit that couldn’t object 
We want to be the words but are stuck as bees. 
 
Want to be a feeling but end up with memories 
Reality respects us as theory, our bodies alone
Are made to atone 
When we wake it from this dream. 
 
Years ago I was Buddy be-
Cause I had a metaphorical contract 
Mind and body didn’t contract 
Now I am Joan, both word and bee.
 
I am learning to see
How objective time ages our only home 
How people make concepts into our bones 
Then tells us they’re only skin deep. 
 
Dearest Esther 
We are forever thresholds 
Divided but sworn to uphold 
The content, not the concept of the weather.