“The Attendants”

Music trembles as tuxedos twirl bridesmaids.
To want you is to think 3000 thoughts,
each one a marble scattered across tile.

Language exists in pure emotion.
Until released it soars to the heavens
the way a child stares on a street corner
releasing a balloon, sending a wish.

Eyelids open
my body calling for a café con leche.
I think of the Brazilian fields,
men plucking beans still green
the way I plucked the moonflower last night
to hold time to my heart.
This morning it is wilted.

Calves ache from dancing,

I think of all that is broken within us.
Fractures shoot stars through bones,
reminding us that we heal and forget our bruises.
Thoughts grow an English garden.
I wander down,
to see where the end will take me.

Can we communicate through the hedge?

I hope you too find the exit
and wait for me
so I can think about beginning again.