poetinside

have a heart

let it stain your
hands, as important
moments are wont
to do. in the cracks
of your skin, catch
the pulse, catching
yours. doesn’t time
shrivel and waste
like petty organs
spew church hymns
and wasted fluid.

don’t days pass in
the same ways we
do?

show some skin

let it die again
and again, as beautiful
things are wont
to do. shed your
clothes and your
airs until that
skin lays bare until
those very pores open
and flex to this moment
like flower petals,
like fresh earth
and breathe it in.

some days outlive the
years that contain
them.