“Blueprint Blue”
“Peg” plays — and you are
crafting words, willing them
in a direction they cannot go,
but a world around them senses
your presence and they move.
just like the creatures who crawl
at your naked feet, bathed in Earth.
who can call a shadow to her
lips and claim it’s renewed?
only one person.
shaded eyes, lack of sleep,
coffee-induced
happiness — trickling blues
that hit my heart when I
hear your voice.
I’d build one million sandcastles
for muddy rituals and Peppa Pig
moments,
things that make you smile —
if it meant a minute in the
sun would not burn my
melanin-coated skin.
our differences make us,
they do not break a
bond that floats on sure
waters, rafting every rip current.
I think we’re strong enough
to make the next wave
and come out with
a story to tell.
in the humidity of
mystic mountains
we sit, reminiscing on
things where premature words
managed to induce labor.
“blueprint blue,” the color
of your shades — I see my
eyes in them, a reminder
that muses are miracles.
you summon the sun,
it had been resting behind
the clouds — but for you,
it hurried straight over.
how eager is nature to
fall into the care of
a willing hand?
eager enough to
know its heart is
safe with you.
For Elizabeth Helmich. Peg was playing.
