december twenty-sixth time

sometimes, there would be marbles
in our palms upon waking. sometimes
paper cranes under the pillows and
bookmarks between our toes.
i am not sure how there were children
before children--perhaps our love
spread such a distance that it caught
small flecks of dust; small animals.
that it nourished them to commit
beautiful and unpredictable verbs:
holding, smiling, sewing
one body from two bodies:
one heart from many shades of light.


(unrelated--back from my brief holiday hiatus! woo art time every day!)