4 FEET OFF THE GROUND AND 2 YEARS INTO THE CYBERWEB
well that feeling is new
sumptuous and delicate ; something i do
not deserve to feel –
the richness of the fluttering in
my ribcage i thought i had hollowed out
the rhythm of silent words
as they pad, prong-footed and paw-weathered
across some new territory, some violently
bright country i do not dare to enter
i sit outside your door, i
dare not tap the wooden frame
with my knuckles -- for fear of
waking this tiny fledgling bird
we are growing between us
i dare not tip the scales, the finely
tuned arrangement of stolen promises
we lace between our eyes -- (and now
between the sighs in the internet)
the gap between your footprint and mine. the tiny symphony of digital letters
tapping on a tiny screen
(then quickly deleted)
both refusing to fire first
both refusing to fall
and steadily
hanging out feet over the edge
waiting to see how long
gravity will hold us
before we dare
to test it