Don’t look down.
I can feel my toes curl over the edge of the bed.
Don’t look down, they say,
so you’re not aware of how far you can fall
but I can’t help but contort my neck
to find that mischief glitter in your eyes
when you catch me watching.
I’m looking down but, in the moment,
I’m more amazed by the heights I’ve flown to
rather than the realization that anything else
is a crash back to ground zero.
There is no fear when my fingers are
twisted into yours.
When we start paying attention to time,
we lose the moment.
I believe this – I’ve felt it, I’ve seen it,
I’ve lost too many moments for it,
yet, every day, I still wear your watch.
Broken of my obsession with time,
I wear it now not as a reminder for how quickly
the life passes, but
as reminder of the moments past,
the kind of moments when you
left things behind in your mental glaze,
taking with you two hands that signaled
the arrival of moments that matter.
Let things unfold.
Looking at the artistic disarray of my life
I can’t say I look like I’ve had much folded
to begin with. I couldn’t have predicted this,
couldn’t have even tried. But you’re right to point out
the urge I fight to reach out for the fabric
of Tomorrows, trying to shape it with human fancy;
perhaps it’s that “female nature” –
to want to fold, to lay out clearly, press the lines
in the right places.
Let things unfold, the mess seems to whisper to my
anxious, beautiful mind. Aren’t I clever enough
to figure this part out?
But as beautiful as my mind is,
I know I couldn’t have predicted this
because I could have never dreamed such beauty possible.
This was Destiny’s crafting – I only need practice
not getting in the way.
This is why you say
Stop worrying – let things unfold,
for the millionth time as you set me down with kisses, embrace,
dizzied from the twirling of our last playful romp
of a calendar year counted in moments that mattered.
I had looked down, and squeezed your shoulder harder,
laughing as you spun me like the clock
spun away the night without our notice.