as the sky gives itself

how the light at this angle
at this time of year
falling through loft window
encourages/invigorates/makes so much feel possible
and makes me want to do everything i love
all at once
the blood spot
(still wet and bright)
on a leaf just outside the fortsythia
where emory and i were sawing/lopping
in efforts to maintain the fort
and later, the blood on the sink and
a dot/drop on the floor and how i
wipe down the dried smears on em’s arm
and how he holds his hand higher than his heart
like i suggested and how joseph ointments the baindaid
he wraps on em’s pinky finger
whose flesh is flappy and ragged
but the cut is not so deep

we should probably lay low em says
after his finger is bandaged and wrapped
and after i’m done organizing
the chaos that is the first aid kit
which dottie jokes should is more like second aid

a name for seeing new views/land/road
when one runs farther than they have run before
a sort of opening
perhaps similar to how it felt
to hit the highway in the early morning
with tony and brent

on my first month-long road trip as an adult
which somehow felt different than
our family travels (always by car) as a kid –
a sort of opening / celebration
rubbing my fingers together
to sprinkle the salt
on cynthia’s delectable apple crisp
humming/singing – a name for the sensation
in my cells, in these limbs
of a post-run/post-outdoor-shower/post dinner body
as the sky gives itself over to stars and
night and i lay on the loft bed (also known as a foam mat)
not bedtime but just a call to be in stillness
and feel my ribs risefalling
while i take the shifting light in

the eastern screech owl sounds drifting in
through window/door screens
while the closing credits to a serious man
rise from bottom of computer screen to the top
dottie, ty, cynthia and i
lined up on the ginormous futon,
none of our feet reaching the ground


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