1411

I don’t know how

much you’ll love me

when the doors finally

close

that soft scraping

of the carpet by the front

door only bringing back

the time

your hands drew rivers

along my scalp

I know I can be anything

but it’s easiest

to be a sagebrush or spotted

gecko basking at the edge of

your shadow

I know I’m not empty

skies above canyons

or wild country

dry and aching

before the storm comes in

I know I’m a statuette

or a door stop

when those books finally

crumble

and I don’t know

if I can be a last breath

or a sigh released

into the wind

right before the storm comes in

I know I’m not storm country

and I know I’m not

storm country

and I know I’m not

storm country

I just wish I knew

what was