If Bodies Were Weightless

It’s 53 degrees here
when it should be so much colder.
Over a thousand miles from your front door,
I’m crossing Texas Street to get my coffee
and I’m missing you.
I wish I could rip off these heart-sleeves
sometimes,
but I save them in case I get to bleeding.
The bursted bubble,
the no-air space,
the pin-cushioned heart
—there were days
I could’ve spent months
listening alone in silence.
The space, the floating,
bodies weightless without control,
but hoping for a spiritual revolution.
I find hope recounting each strand of your hair
the way I’m sure god does on his good days.
“If bodies were weightless”
was the first line I ever wrote about you.
I thought of two balloons
tied to the wrist of a boy
blowing dandelions into the wind.
We are weightless on our laughing gas,
Soft-shoeing, tapless, hovering
through the house.

Lover, let’s live out our love
and dance through our souls
—you’re the first dance step I ever got right.
Let’s burst at the seams,
make dreams that scare us,
love so boldly, so brightly,
you can see our stars at noon.
Our stars
build constellations that puncture the night.
Sweetheart, let’s find ways to connect our dots
even when there are too many clouds;
Bridge our gaps with light
so blinding you can’t see a shadow of doubt.

I’ll reach out for you with my love,
a folded crane, origami.
When you see the postman,
tell him you’ll keep it warm.

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About Ry

It's so magical, it's gay.
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