held a dream together
and the it
left the illusion
alone; for once.
deliberate like rain
on our cloudy backs
were the feverishly high
antelopes of tightly
dried out poetic
knots.
metal hands hidden with
cognitive storms peeling
apart to break free on our
ripped nerves just waiting
to be itched.
diluted with soft
metal hands i am
praying with your
back's small intentions.
i am praying
with my back against
your distance.
we live in moon storms
and our hair is on a fire
that sings peace to
our semantics.
our home is filled
with unopened
windows but
i still feel safe
inside your
wild deft night
arms.
