It took folds of forest green
terry cloth swallowing me
one limb at a time to make me
into a mouse – warm and weak
against my giant.
The shield is one shade lighter
than the forest at midnight and
one shade darker than the sky
before a storm, and as that peculiar
sky breaks apart
over our heads
with me,
unified as confetti,
looking at you the way raindrops
dripping off of lips look so delicious.
It can absorb
the droplets left over
on the small of my back
where I can never get the towel to reach.
It takes away
some little bits of sin every time and
morphs it into little pixels
like the potting soil in the living room –
ground into each fiber –
woven into the Berber like it belongs there.
Tossing it to the hamper as one
might toss a crutch after the cast comes off –
I can’t comprehend – because the day
you pulled your robe around me you
stirred the internal and it became
my emerald everything.
Drips of love through the hand that writes sends a sense of gratitude, this heart is not lost.
ReplyDeleteEmily's emerald, she wears it well.