as one nest
empties
another one fills.
the fullness ephemeral
but weighty as the bird.
my fingers clumsy
and slick with wanting,
pressing in
and up.
pressing the word,
pressing the gap,
sculpting the hollow
weighting.
the salt of your mouth the quiet guide,
unlatching my own tidal
surges
with swift reckoning.
lacerations softened with intent.
you wonder at the story of me,
the story I
clutch too
tight in my fists.
you wonder at the nest
I am weaving.
you wonder the word
you wonder the gap.
you wonder me
wide
open
til there’s no going back.
About the Creator
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