Notes on my tongue,
bittersweet flavors.
Lace my sighs and smiles together
when I think about it.
Kindling wood heart,
sometimes timing
is just right.
I strike a match trying to
catch what a spark sounds like.
I’m trying to find the exact moment,
not that it matters now.



On the floor I see the once
pinned fortune cookie paper.
It’s a dumb piece of paper that I’ve kept.
What does it matter what pulls us forward?

I watch the pieces of my life rearranging,
it’s a picture that almost makes sense. I 
just have to get there, have to wait for the 
“fall into place”, for the dust to settle. 
Even now I listen for the sounds
you hear as you push in a piece 
just where it belongs.
Reassurance has weight in my hands.
We imagine the things we need, 
what does it matter, what keeps
our feet moving on?
Three months from that date,
I’m counting down. I’m a sucker for 
things that aren’t real like fate, like 
gentle waves of air in the shape of a 
hand, sent from something bigger.
I place the paper back on the cork board.
I ask July to be kind.

changing states 

Playing with the physics of our 
bodies in your bedroom.
We use key instruments of self,
adding friction, adjusting pressure and 
temperature in search of
 “just right”
Perfect conditions. Tightly wound 
body made soft by your hands. 
When you feel the vibrations
keep going. Changing states
of matter on your sheets.
Pressure turned higher, heated to the 
boiling point. Melting.
Bodies favor the existence of desires.
Reach the center, 
baby right now we are stars 
and you’re in the core of me. 
Can you feel my heat? 
The sun has nothing on me.
Tell me I make you burn.