this land never had any
slithering things to wind
between outstretched limbs.
you lead me to the edge
of the ocean and ask me to stand still.
I thought you were my gold river,
my ticket to the sun.
I want to jump towards the blue,
lose myself where the only thing
to lose is air. I have such windy dreams.
in a life that is thick with thistles,
I have learned to tread lightly.
mornings lean out over the railing,
balance on the edge.
I wait for you to start a fire.
I’ll even take away the matches.
let’s just go home.