i want to swing in a hammock, limbs
entwined, and slow
see the leaves and their geometries
know that my children are nourished
full-bellied and warm with bare
feet and bright eyes
want my sad to erase
in plump fruit and salt air
the callus of dry, too dry,
and long so lone
away and now instead
some love a love big
love
that wraps around me and children
all.

g o d s

it is not that there are too many
godless women

it is that there are too many
womanless gods.

what if you
retired
and devoted your
self to
the basement.

what if you unplugged the phone and left
the cell phone downstairs buried
under a pillow
and after climbing the stairs
pulled
out the dusty boxes
of slides behind your clothes
in the closet
in the closet.

what if instead of
a trip to the other side of
the world
you won a scholarship
to stay home,
touching every
thing that hadn't been touched
in so long.

i keep throwing open the doors
missing something
maybe the air
maybe the light
maybe someone i don't quite
know, yet,
because of the cold
and prudence
i close the doors

only to go to them again
and outside
just a few
more times