It’s Late

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Been pressing buttons
Panic
Pleasure
Pain
And otherwise
With abandon
Without permission

I should have asked
What scares you
Where do I end and you begin
How much can you take
Shall I press on

Trust Your Breath?

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Lie down on your belly
Face hovering over the wet, cold mud
Tell your tales of undying devotion
When I wipe clean your face with my own, let’s see what I see

If I believe you
I will invite you
Breathe In (Will you)
Breathe Out (let me) 
Breathe In (take you)
Breathe Out (to the) 
Breathe In (places)
Breathe Out (you must)
Breathe In (go?)
Breathe Out (Say yes.)

Oh My Tree

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I know all the places that I want my feet to roam

To start with, I bow down at the tall Tree that I call Home

My eyes intoxicated by each knot where I fall short

I think my tree’d endulge me a slow swing and a high fort

I’ll want no fancy curtains and no spark’ling countertops

In this fort all I’d wish for are our books and the treetops

And please, two chairs, two cups and tea in case I receive guests

Then one last thing, a strong table where roaming feet should rest

My Fins Feel Fine

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You should see me.
Soft, hard.
Curved, chiseled.
Synchronized swimming in hope.

If the last time around today, you said “I’ve loved you,” forgive that I did not hear the splash of you landing next to me. 
I apologize for the poison in my ears and beg your pardon for the lead in my lungs.

These days are funny to me.
As I learn how to float, I mimic the small frys and water bugs frolicking around me. 

These days are strange to me.
As I strengthen my kick, I feel the distant hands of Some Kind Of Sea Creature softly holding my back.

My fins feel fine and you should see me.