Pour it out.
Vomit into my hands, and
I will hold you and
what you've needed to throw away.
Give thanks for the propellers
in your arms, call them veins
and love and goosebumps.
Whisper through trees too quiet
like you were the patience of starlight.
She spent 30 years getting here.
She traveled through an asteroid belt.
Stars don't get stains or
covered in satin or given
sainthood. What is it like to be
a needle in a black haystack?
I would ask her, but I'm frightened
of what her eyes would tell me
before her mouth could open,
swallowing me like a child's forehead
into wonderment.
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