tuesday justwrite

Fully absorbed into the sky like rain evaporating from my lips as the snow creeps out of the ground, moss frozen pale as my eyes except the parts that are named after flowers that I only know are flowers because they are not trees or birds or the palms of my hands, doors outside opening and closing, the strings in my mind searching for kites. The moon is a kite, too free for me to catch, my hands encased in the cold of a creek, minnows darting between my fingers, not knowing what it is to be afraid of the seas boiling away and the clouds breaking down into minuscule puffs, searching for chimneys, searching for waterfalls, always searching because there's nothing to do if everyone stays in one place, nothing to sing about but waiting, your fingertips spinning invisible yarn because all they've ever wanted is to be warm, to hide, to have somebody find them locked away in a chest floating up onto the shore, anonymous photographs inside, staring back as if they know you, know who you are I mean, have memorized every line of poetry in your face and can see the wind beyond your eyes as the footsteps swarm around you, so sure of where they're going which has nothing to do with where you're standing, in spite of the future when their paths cross over your point and you have to move or jump or sink down even further.