Motion begins
in paragraphs. Cardinals,
red-rinsed, invent song.

Remember the tire swing
perched above
the lake?

My sweat still knows its branches,
your body blasting
into umbered water. I watched,

too afraid of letting go,
and missed the chance
to fly.

It’s no wonder
for our obsessions. It’s no wonder
the sun speaks in waves,

that light bends electric,
and all we eat is air. In schoolbooks,
we learned evaporating grace,

twilight and green. Please,
speak sweet
of sentences yet bare,

speak sweet
of what’s left
to be discovered.