Your hair illuminated
and promising,
moved me to believe anything
possible.
With hands pressed
you pushed.
Tumbling over,
I saw myself tall.

Time pours
out of your head,
but words form
and wish for things
and know the earth,
feel the breeze.
Smelling nothing,
but your memories,
it was pain
and fire
and burning
in a bright burst.
Tomorrow, though,
I know
and watch
your return.

Hands touched
and pulled
along beauty’s journey,
toward the potential of gravity
and the galaxy incubator
you and I come from.
Explanations
of love
and knitted comfort.
You offered it,
the deep, steadfast knots
that wound myself
to me.