Graft

Last night,
while the hour held us
in its slow grasp
& our bodies plunged deeper & deeper
into the soft untroubled mud of sleep,
I heard you rustle inside me
like a dove finally ready
to trust the weight of the air.
The room peeped at us through the curtains,
eyes glistening like a moonlit puddle.
There was so much I wanted to see
but the mud held me down
while your wings began to feather
& grow wide like lungs.
A thousand birds beat against my rib,
so I let the night peel my skin open.
You peeked from the corner of my arm,
unsure of what freedom means.
You turned to see if I still exist
then you dissolved into a smile,
a newborn sun.
It shattered all the boulders
that the years had quenched around the shore.
You put your hands around my neck
& drew me out like a blade.
I gleamed for a moment,
& then I sank deep into you.
You swallowed me like a grave.
Somehow you gathered all your wounds
& wore me over them
& we began to graft into ourselves,
then bud, then flower & now,
as morning begins to creep down
from among the trees to join us for a moment,
everything becomes confused;
where it had left two, there is one
& this one is learning how to walk.
Soon it will talk & then it will bloom into dust.

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