Where I’m Coming From

Steven Fine [CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

I’m coming from a blue heron taking off
like an angel being born,
from clouds moving in moonlight,
your hands kneading knots out of my back.

I’m coming from the texture of an unread book,
a jar of our backyard brewed into honey,
your tongue in Popsicle mode.

I’m coming from our house’s midnight groans,
your perfume on a pillowed ghost,

your knowing where I’m coming from.

Written in response to “I Am From [Exercise #1]” in Fresh Darlings.