10 miles down the road to you
10 miles between a chance
So when I dance
And the floors creak
I expect you to listen closely
In the still of night
Try to sense when I’m moving
Even when you’re 10 miles
10 miles
I can give you everything
If the dirt road between us surrenders
Coils into herself like a rug in the mail
Rips the earth from beneath gravitys’ sturdy feet
Until your porch meets mine
On our own tectonic plate
The dirt beneath our feet is ours
Family
Neighbors,
Forever
In the blistering sun
I imagine you
Dancing with the ground
Like the lonely cowboy you’ve become
You spend the afternoon with rusted metal
And this years harvest
Making decisions
Moving your hips in blaring light
Pressing your heels into the ground
And in that moment
That life
That deep, hollow breath
Where it’s just you and the pines
And the wind through the high branches
You close your eyes
The backs of your eyelids become a matinee
And you just
MOVE
You take your shirt off
Slowly
Feeling the cotton tickle your bicep as it glides off of your wet shoulders
Rippled in your grip
Then on the ground
You’ve always had possessive hands
But here
You laugh with the grass
You kiss your fingers
You listen to the harvest
You defy your father
Though just 10 miles
Down the road
His most succulent
Most ripe
Awaits
Plump and ready
To be made a stranger to my own roots
To be a victim of those busy hands
In my day dream
I am buried under your harvest
I kiss the roots for luck
I wait for you in tethered silk
Then one day
I hear a digging
I hear a searching
A choosing
And there they are
The hands
Your hands
The sun escapes past the dirt like a convict
And then dissipates into clear vision
Big blue sky
Body reaching toward the earth
Toward me
And genesis
Is renewed
Suddenly and quietly
And the pines watch us
Fuse
Into precious, vulnerable ground
And tangle like the roots
In the forest
On your chest
I lay
A memory with blood
Rushing
Running
Your fine linen
Your blue, blue puddle
You call me your woman
You name your shotgun after me
Eat my clothes
Consume me greedily
You call me Church
You call me Sunday
You call me Candy
As we lay in the harvest
With the pines listening
On our own tectonic plate
Neighbors,
Forever