Floating with Anchors

One moment- at the bus stop
the next- on hands and knees
in your garden;
twigs disturbing
the brown cracks of my palms
and shins.

and again i crawl
towards the cluster of
red sunflowers.
our meeting place.

and, as is routine,
i pull my dirty index
and plug one nostril
so hard
my nose begins
to bleed

bent over
i am running my nose across the soil
beneath the flowers
and let the pollen rush to my skull
so that my head begins to hurt
so good

rolled over on my back
i fail to notice the slugs
that made their way into my hair
slick and slow

i release myself to the
rivers of itchy grass
while
bits of bloody sunflower pollen
feast
on the 90%
scientists say
we never use

and i cough up flies
while you make love to me.

Possibilities

He says

he loves me

more

The Wheel

as I roll
i sometimes wonder
what would come of us
-of this wagon we carry-
if i gave a little less

i've been on the move
since given this position
from my creator
from the one who shaped me
and, in his infinite wisdom,
he set me in line with you

two wheels, you and i.

to take this load somewhere
to travel
to move
but sometimes
sometimes
you've got me wondering
if we are rolling on my momentum
alone

you've got me drowned in muddy waters.
wondering. curious
if our wagon would make it to california
still
if you were left to your own strength.

i pray you'd have enough
in your spokes to roll us both
if you'd take on the extra load

but something tells me
if i stopped
to explore such
hypotheses
i would- for the first time- dread being proven correct

for if i laid by the road
this wagon would surely rot away
and this load,
this delivery,
will never be complete

& i envy you.

you sleep at night
when the wagon stops, and we warm near the campfire
and you are sound...
knowing that if you ever stopped rolling
things would be okay
for i would work for you

and you sleep with your Knowing
and you sleep with your Knowing

and i wake gasping for air
a worn wheel
desperate for your Knowing
jealous of your Knowing

hungry for your Knowing