Dream of Fitchers Fogel
Ciara Sanker

I am tired of keeping
it together. I want
to live messy and real,
all guts and earth
and reckless heart,
silver-spoked wheels and
string-callused thumbs
and fall apart into
your waiting hands.
I want to hum all
the songs we have ever
known until I have
no breath left and you
have to fill my lungs
again with yours. My eyes
are soft as ribbons
and your tongue is coffee-
dark. Undoing my scarf,
your fingers bend upward
like bone-carved cups
waiting to be filled,
or like scorched tender
wings open and ready
to take me anywhere.