I Know

for Linnea

The five fingers of you right hand are an anxious bird trembling against your breast, while the five fingers of your left imitate the unconscious pattering of rain outside the window, as if sending Morse code from a ship at sea, while the palm of your right pressed against my cheek is the fullness of a now remembered dream or is it the open palm of the left holding the startled mourning of my heart that makes me blush & you

coy & my two hands are the hands of a supplicant holding your breast as if in prayer, answered by your ten toes come in from summer, a choir of sun – dust and dirt, while your two eyes; sister mountain lakes, tell each other childhood’s secrets in-between trees and shadows, and just now the music of your one heart is a bell hung from the North star, that sings, that sings me home.

Heart Bell


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