I

I wake mid sleep from the soft slap of your hand.
Draped beads clack against the closet door as the waves
from the sound machine crash against
the water  and I wonder about
that day I cut opened my chest
and placed my heart in your hands.

Can I trust you to cradle
it in your fingers,
mindful of not letting it fall?

And, if it did accidently
slip through the empty spaces
would you dive to catch it before
it splatters onto the ground?

I fall back asleep and dream we are blankets swimming
towards our rowboat. Paddles meet, a spark like your touch,
and we shoot from the root of spring and green shines
through the water.

Continue reading ➞ Broken Places, Published by “Women Around Town” 10/5/14