such a small heart—
fairy wren mud crab banker
belted galloway tree hugger …
just look how we have learned
the divide of things,
each of the heart’s trillions
given names that we might away
ourselves from all
the deep belonging,
the small
ache amid
the remembering.
all our feet
joined to the ground, sky
in our lungs and yet
a pre-framed self branded
along the billboards in the brawl
of our too-many tales …
all of us? moss
in the pavement, breath marks
in the schedules of our hours
where we arrive again,
feeling what we touch,
meaning what we do not speak but
pour into our tongues—
do we want that now? do we?
ourselves
becoming land,
becoming
biome,
the rockets in our minds
veering off into other worlds, un-
breathable but at least
singular—the one red hue
lending its glow. the optimist
hauling the few
trillions into her arms
using the heart that belongs always
to us all …
pelican shingleback code writer
fairy shrimp mountain ash poet