I woke, stretched,
unbuttoned
my tongue to the dumb
word love, to long-
stolen here and halting
thought half-lost
in vinca, our borrowed
stars go by and why,
for home, do I hear
bones hum and names
unbind through shifting
vistas? Stone seems
made that way,
not broken, so don’t
crack open, leave history
hungry, if no fence
invents you, skin will. Time
to slip into it.