Lizzy Burnam 🐞

sunday morning
held so soft and normal
before the break
a moment so fleeting it’s already lost
featherlight like eyelashes
the size of a glance
a mouthful of petrichor
that time I bit into the moss 
like the skin of a peach
all I hear now is what I did not say
an echo of hold me’s
help me’s 
with cotton in my teeth
that time I told the truth and no one heard
I thought it might bleed
I thought it might cry
dark as humus
fertile old ghosts surrounded by life
an iridescent silvery blue
like the moon’s impartial witness
or seeds of nickels, dimes
my palms, my breath
irreparable
yet still worth saving
baby, come sit
in the cool mist off the waterfall
you can know love and never chase it
you can bury it when you’re done
I’ve wanted to say this for a long time:
I am not the wild one
a group of me’s is called 
an acquiescence 
and what’s a knot that doesn’t hold?
a river, baby
let it flow