You hold your own bottle today until it gently slides from your lips. You do the unknown next.
We watch for the next unknowns. Your fingers uncurl against the surface,
as the surfaceholds its form against your hand.
You begin to know that you have not my hand, not his, nor hers. Yourhead turns toward sounds, your eyes toward light.
You begin to give a voice to the you,
rich in all the languages your voice can be. Our power to speak silences.
You hold our attention for the nexts,
the tomorrows, the infinity of your steps.
We mark each thing you hold brieflyasyou, and we, learn you.
(The full chapbook collection is available at:
