It’s not just poetry I see you in.
You are in the ocean
and in clean notebooks
and when the fan’s clicked on in heat.
Unclothed after a long day.
In the summer I lived by a park famous for its cherry trees.
And when I told you I loved you it was as though the sun
had finally come out
on an otherwise rather gray spring.
You are the heaviest weight in my chest
but all the same it feels as though my heart
is tied to a migrating cloud.
while I’m lifted
my roots tangle with yours in the soil.