how you’ve managed
to turn months into minutes
confuses the logic of my heart
cuts me up like fabric
turns this wild wild world ever so small.
you bend time in your arms
press your chest against mine
turn your head sideways to mine
I can do nothing
thank you for tolerating
my hyper attention to diligent shaving
running conversations with plants
cooking when there’s no time
my extended family
when I refuse to drive
my love of quinoa
how these hands can’t stay off you
the kabbalah says
when the world was created
god retreated to make space for the earth
so during the interim
what was in the space between?
dreams that love. words of power.
a quiet space where there is only silence
and loudness that makes no sound
where we’ve been all this time.
when the world melts away
you show up with a backpack
water, smiles, and wine
a pillar I can lean on
even though I stand seven inches taller
we build a tent, ride out the monsoons
search for higher ground.
and when it’s safe
we stay in a little longer.