the night before you met me
i was stagnant in my home
a sloppy, wonky, potter’s sack of bones
the morning of your knowing
i was all alive in chatter
deflated, winded, arid leather bladder

call to my name
i do not know
no sound from sound
no from possibly. oh!

the night we beckoned starry noise
i poured the warm fruit tea
a sugar, spoon of honey for us, then
i delved into a wooden box
brought ginger to the sitting spot
a garden for delight brought unto thee.

call to my title
i cannot hear
title from mumble.
oh! troublesome dear.

this night is alight with
your worried heart’s torch light
it searches the dark cloud for blossoming bones