This is the space where magic happens
people supporting our spouting on napkins
the have-nothings & want-lesses
the pouring hearts & spit up messes.
We're all built to make, create, & change
to go through it all & rearrange
There are lessons in every web we weave
all the forget-me-nots & tricks up sleeves.
The holes in our cores don't mend themselves
when we write our thoughts & keep them on shelves
of nights when sleeping men won't die
& families won't steal every tear in our eyes.
No horseshoe or rabbit foot will beat out time
you'll find your own rhythm, I'll make my own rhyme
we'll fill up the holes with moonlight & quicksand
remembering always: our life, our hands.
And someday, somebody will come this way
look at these scars & this smile & say,
"I've been running & running to find this place,
the curves of your body, & the look on your face."
