how would i describe gratefulness in a world of glut overflowing glowing winterized tires shiny glass splinters under every industrialized finger waving an inhalation of never ending noise when i walk through the door to old linoleum pocked with cigarette burns greasy smear of road salt from last night's boots where i'll lay this night's boots in the watery light of an ordinary bulb and i hear your voice along the blank wall as yet invisible damp denim bumped by a fuzzy face i reach down i look up enclosed in that space my heart knows no loftier step no broader vista no more cherished resting place than a home built moment by moment on the jigsaw of risk that marks the high water line of love in a world of ten thousand glittering compensations for every tiny death of the heart in an unheard of unspoken to desensitized wound healed in a word when i walk through that door.
February 3, 2021
