Breadcrumb #284

SUSAN CLARKSON MOORHEAD

What I want from you
is to take the clench
of the day off me.
To arrest the tap tap tap
at the plate of my chest
and to hold it at bay
when I find myself in
all the different corners.

What I want is for you
to meet in the middle,
to know that when
I'm at either end,
I am still with you. 
To know that
just you there
is enough.

Stand with me
as I look up that climb
of impossible sky, reaching
for a grasp of green: spinning
trees under careless clouds,
trying to anchor these hours
to something outside
ourselves.

To make it all count,
our so short and so long
time here.  Let us be
like breath, the in and out
of these moments, our
lives here before us, this
now, passed, and gone.

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