this wall is made from too many bricks
there are different colours in every of them
together they came to shadow us all
but the brick is not this, the brick builds no wall

I wonder if wonder was ever a floor
with shines, and creaks, and knubby to sole
like the shapes of a woman, like the touch of a soul
the kiss of the skin to the floor full of doors

you dropped your keys near the brick-up window
it’s night outside, and cold, and
there is you in the dark, looking more than ever
to bosom inside where the music is on, dim and warm

you came home earlier, I’m the moon of a your sun
with my hair flooding your shoulders, and the world
still lingering inside of your eyes, as you roll up your sleeves
like a musician covered in flour and cheese

I’m better tonight, you say and
I don’t know where or why or how did I become your tree
as you, my ground, my wind, my rain, my stars
open your arms as far