There are things I’d rather whisper and never quite say out loud.

In the end there doesn’t have to be anyone who understands you. There just has to be someone who wants to.

I want to eat your sparrow, come
here. I want to lick your sparrow claws come
here. I want to cut your sorrows out
you’re hollowed out. Come here.
I want to suck your fingers off.
Come here.
I want to give you your history back.
Your fingers back. I want to tell you yes.
Come back. I want to show you my pressure,
my heavy, my opened and clothes, my under
and o’s. Come here. I want to finger
your bones back. I want to sew your bones back
I want to re-blood your history.
I want to undo you like a mystery
novel. Is this the kitchen? The table-saw?
Is this your memory? Your tree-dream? You’re declawed.
I want to give you your teeth back. Your teeth marks.
I want to spit back your teeth-pull. I want to unhinge your heart-jaws.
Come here. I want to sit you down on the bed and give you back
my years. Here. I breathed your name into the leaves.
Here. I breathed you back into the trees. Here. This is your tree-dream
this is your tree-house, this is a bedroom, this is a silver broom
this is a shallow dream. This is my tree-dirt, my bee shirt.
This is my honey-stalk and these are your climbing shoes.
Harmonica me to sleep again. Put your sparrow on my back skin.