I was out every night looking
in my dreams. I was searching for
white birch trees. I remember them. They were
I don’t know how long I was
searching still, years later in
freckled bark in the curve of somebody’s
When I was a girl on the altar
enough to ask God to slow
I knew that moment was eternal. It was.
Some eternities are scars.
I can’t think about love on a couch
But there were a few moments
when I didn’t think about love on
I have already dug myself out
of the dirt they call my grave.
Ghost sometimes call to me and
You are not a ghost you are
right here in front of me. I am trying
not to memorize the sound of your guitar but
I am trying to calm down. I have already
your elbow from where I lay. I have
already moved on. You are
using your hands and making music.
We make love on the couch
while my roommate’s not home.
There are forests in the way he bent his
elbow, yes. There are more forests
this forest is deeper than any on Earth.
We make love on the couch while
my roommate’s not home.
a birch tree, still rooted.
You are not a ghost. You are
right here. Touch me. I’m sorry.