late november the grass frosted with wind weight

and all day thunder from the upstairs neighbor's

piano these dead things we touch air into

and you'd show up unannounced at my apartment

soaked in snow and traffic noise to hold me

in the hallway light of emergency and whoops

how the bones confuse ache for

wonder and you'd bracket my smile

in your hands and every year slanted lilacs

still alive on purpose and the distance between

love and a knife is someone's god and

you'd trace minuses across

my forehead to flatline the ones tinting my arm

and with a body this chalkboard you'd think i would've

solved something by now and last night i stood

with my back to the music you showed me

from that playlist you made when i still

wore my hair in ponytails unafraid

of the light hitting all sides of me

at once and my shoulders adjusted an octave

lower.