I’m spending the day that never ends
with my daughter in snow pants throwing husks
of ice into the river. Accidentally, I have two
dead friends whose Facebook pages remind me
of their birthdays every year.
Some trees were entirely ice by the end
of March & we threw them in the river.
If I thought we could shatter
like crystal pinecones & melt into an ancient life
I would surrender. I have the dream too.
I’d like to make understudies
for us that wouldn’t need to breathe
or be understood or emit carbon.
I don’t believe in hierarchies. In fact, my favorite kind
of inequality is cellular,
like if I turn just so, I’ll become lunar.
Maybe one day control the sea.
I want to be confused
by power. Would you accuse me
of sleeping on your roof while you sleep
under me? I saw a painting of your sleep wearing my sleep
like a gossamer. This is our fast-stitched heaven,
our cloud, the thermodynamic us
in which we become water clinging to dust,
in which we linger over cities like a need