8 Months Ago

my heels tasted sweet grass today;
like the ages between skins lust for
sun and the tear ducts longing for reasons.
this was an apology from God herself,
she watched the things drive across
the rain soaked fibers, watched me wear
thin below the fingertips grabbing at my
throat. every tick of the watch wrapt ‘round
my left wrist reminded me that I have spaces
like skies to fill.

everything we did wrong
bundled up like Christmas
gifts; shiny and new. fresh deep cuts
in the tissues of my feet, turning green
with chlorophyll that seeps out of
their wounds, possibly ones we made or
brewed like truck stop coffee.

let the car stereos thump and men
drive over the plains dirt roads. this
journey is like the one to the heart of
a good woman, long, thoughtful,
or painfully right. something like you
never dreamed of finding in this
life, and it’s proof that we need more
than just our own bodies to dwell within.