I don’t know if
there is a we
or if my love
is a house is  
your body is  
a setting sun
is a field in  
flower a ghost
But what if sky
could tilt toward  
coast and split-songed  
wandering away  
from stone-colored  
seas toward a  
hole in the screen
where you and I  
gather like small
animals like
a circle of bees
What if every  
closed door was
an opening
to the softness
of shadow the
barely moving  
air and there
we could fall
into each other
like the slow sweep
of evening or
the easy curve
of sleeping heat
What then be-
loved what then