This evening, my mother left the room to watch her favorite TV show.
We were in the middle of a conversation when she realized it’d started.
She said she wanted to continue talking.
She asked me:
“Will I be able to find you when it’s through?”
Somehow, it was like she was asking an entirely different question.
I’m lost and alone and together and entirely whimsical.
When the dawn breaks, when the moon shakes
On some mornings and evenings, I am unfindable, Baby.
I shed colors, and hair, and song.
I shed You.
It’s impossible to hold my hand anymore. It’ll disintegrate beneath your grip.
I am a line you can’t define
This morning, I rode into town with the dawn. Everyone was so far from catching us.
So this song is restraint on piano keys and my breath is desperation in a police state.
We cannot create music without wanting to tear at the stray threads of our clothing.
I cannot write this page without moving my head to the keys beneath your fingers.
I cannot believe that the world is more beautiful than the voice behind your words.
(Because it is not. Because when I hear something that meaningful for days at a time, I’ll know I’ve reached the end, I’ll know I’ve reached the unthinkable.)
We are less reliable than butterflies.
We will disappear before the dawn lays its hands on your shoulders.
We’ll drive away again, before they catch us.
Before it’s all said and done.
I will trace over defeat and Autumn will smell fresh again. Like leaves and trees and dirt.
Like it always did before the sun set too soon. Before nights meant more than I ever wished them to.
Find me at the end of the sea, between the ocean floor and the surface that tugs at the sky.
I will wait for you and when the water freezes, I will hide beneath the glassy waves.
We will fish out the truth.
They’ll keep asking questions. They’ll keep trying to discover our faces on the wrong continent.
They’ll keep un-understanding, unraveling, until even the waves lose their blue.
We will have stolen some already, but Baby, it will be years before they realize.
Will you be able to find me when it’s through?
I can’t exactly say.
Mama, I’ve never been sure of anything that beautiful.