It’s six a.m. and I haven’t had a home in three months.

You and I are Earth.

November is an origami disaster.

I can’t seem to smooth out the creases between my eyes. 

If time is but a sheer fabric, 

Then why can’t I rip my way back to August?

My hands are full with my melting heart.

My cup runneth over and my body aches to live so free.

I dig my toes into my borrowed sheets.

If I shut my eyes, will I even know the difference?

Death can so easily disguise herself as life

But this soil sings the songs of my people.

Their hands fold over time 

To fold into mine.

We are all earth and sky and moon and star,

Shadow and dust 

And still…

I long for more.