duhpursuit

We are children; we wade in
waist deep until there is nothing left to hold.
Everything we touch in this moment is golden–
the gilded morning, autumn, whistling softly
while we work on hope, your body and my body
rippling the surface of another, moving
in all directions, but one.

Nothing is more precious, more tenuous, more feeble,
than the delicate flesh of the heart, pulsing a million times
before we can take our first steps, before the earthworm,
moving blindly in his earthen cathedral, takes one
and leaves the other four to break.

If we could move through the world like this,
blind and solitary, emerging only when the obvious signs
of rain have made their way down to us,
bursting skyward without the slightest thought of birds–

But for now we are still
navigating the tepid undulations in our sleep,
another dream just hours from now, waiting to rise
and fall, two dreamers astonished by the crest
of another successful exhalation.

For this episode of Spam-a-lot Sunday, Lesage reminds us to “stop feeling inadequate in bed.”

And now, a poem.

between the sheets

sundays you are prone
to receive unsolicited advice
unfiltered and encouraging

stop feeling
inadequate

growth is possible
now between the hours of 4 and 6
as long as you can guarantee
the dream-state

have passport ready