This morning the moon falls
In cloud-shadow,
Framed by a flock of formation birds —
Here we are again, love.
Want to take a ride?
I’ll try not to be so silly,
To moderate my racing heart —
Seven lungs full —
But I’ve tried before,
And it’s hard
To quiet that electric nerve.

Look at the fog
Hanging on the meadow.
We could leave the road here
And wander out in it,
Roll around in cold dew.
The glass clouded might help me
Learn to drop my guard again.

I know!
It is futile,
But I can’t seem to help myself.
I’ve said it before —
To no one in particular —
And no hardness adopted
Will reverse it.
Deprived too long,
The dam can’t prevent
My tendency to flood.
I am its subject —
And we’re in the thick of it now.

And anyway,
I was wrong
(As I so often am)
When I said before
That to know you
Could do me no good.
And even so,
I can’t help but fall
As the waters roll me over —
At least for a little while.

Dreaming now,
Sit with me here.
Discarding fear of eyes and hands —
On the moonlit bridge,
Let there be no judgment.
Quietly now,
Let it be as we will it —
A pure thing,
And holy.
Shock of connecting wires,
Wind and wing
Untarnished by resentment
Or time’s passing.

The sun breaking free now,
The world returns to me.
Feet fall down
On solid ground —
The floodwaters a dream now,
On memory’s faded horizon.
Unlock the doors, love.
Let’s go home.



About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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