r e s p o n s e

Always your image of us bending over soil,

moving limbs around the bracken And in response

I add the movement within: my myelin now

remembers the outline of your shoulder,
your laugh encouraging the air like new song, and how

I know you'll show me moments where it dapples -- my nerves

newly formed into a tree that begs every year for its leaves,
for when the sun expands our view grows too, and perhaps
I have already said enough. Except that as we lie in bed packed

within our dreams every night, the shape of you locked into my moon,
and I displaced like a tide, there will always be this murmur
of language between us, there will always be the colours to try