Bits and Pieces


I know the things you know
before you know them.

How there is a wholeness to love,
a sometimes painful surrender of
the tender bits, the gory bits.
The pieces you hide in still, quiet rooms
inside of your chest.

But I know that quiet can break as easily
as bones can, that wholeness is a
rather overwhelming idea.
I know that you cannot imagine
loving anyone or anything
that much, that you are afraid of sinking


­­­­­­­­­­­­into that warm, unfamiliar place
where I wait for you,
holding these bits and pieces under my tongue.

I let them dissolve,
let them turn into chemicals,
let my blood carry them to my heart.
I let them take root,
and there,

with you,

they become something  they never were before.


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