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they tried to tell me 

how to enter this gate

with grace.

little do they know

about grace.

leave that to me.

i have known ancients who,

though their smiles were jagged

and their eyes were murky,

their spirits were emblazoned

with tempests of gratitude.

for some, it is enough to know

what the body craves; yes,

that is the true measure,

isn’t it?

for others, it is

more

more

never enough.

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she said,

it’s an odd feeling, this.

it pains me, but i can’t let it go.

i said,

you can’t, or you won’t?

she said,

i’m trying, here.

do you think you can walk

in my shoes, every once in a while?

i said,

we all must walk in our own shoes—

you in yours, i in mine.

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early morning.

i greet my shadow in a window.

in a mirror.

in the full length of a glass door.

come in, i say.

come sit with me.

come eat.

come drink.

come sit.

come be.

come be with me, i say.

we sit.

we chat about the letters we have

sent one another throughout the years.

letters sent, but never received.

letters.

saturated with pristine longing.

words.

filled to the brim with reverie.

we sit.

we chew the bones 
we have to chew with one another.

we peel old agitations from the window.

from the mirror.

from the full length of the glass door.

we sit.

what more do we need?

we feast at the banquet of cohesion.

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you stare with mortal eyes

but speak with marble lips

uttering lifeless words

without drawing

a solitary breath

infecting me

with your contagion

leaving me suffocating

breathless

gasping

for something untouchable

reaching

for something unknown