the curtains are breathing
you call me from upstairs
you wouldn’t recognize me
a black, elemental mist that is
nothing solid
to put my arms around  

but I carried you forward with me
into my garden
at the first blush of color  

there were no words
the moments too pure for words
bubbling with their thousand tiny breaths
like a game of connect the dots
I heard roots
the small
neatly wrapped
blooms, soon to be
translucent green
the hostas
twitchy and fat  

seeing how deep I’ve dug
with a spoon of memory
the seed that was its start
where a world peeled
its earthy womb too early
and the world feel apart  

but I’m trying to
send you back, back, back
calculating both the journey and return  

what I want most
to find you in the real world
nested in an open meadow
with the sun on your body  

although we never crossed that boundary
I had to pull myself away from the flames
hold the truth

everything, everything
made sacred
is unstoppable


* Cento using lines/phrases of various poems of Lexington Poetry Month 2017.
Thank you to upfromsumdirt, T.M. Thomson, Rae Cobbs, Christopher McCurry, Bronson O’Quinn, Melva Sue Priddy, M. Wells, Callie Budrick, Ryan Keinath (The Philosophical Physicist), Brandyn Johnston, Ka`imilani, Sabne Raznik, S.L., Jamie Mann, Kevin McCray, HB Elam, Lori Taylor, M J Eaton, Pamela Gibbs Hirschler, Lisa Miller Henry, and Steve Cummings for interesting lines to work with.