I have carried for so long-
thinking this would only be space
again for the city, walking its strands, kissing passing
thumpers. A flat
now vaulted
Our circuitry.
I can make Best Coffee in here.
It tastes my memory. He tastes
salt, solar in fresh bread. We savor apart.
The wall to the courtyard
open for reverie: green
down the side. Meeting its stain.
Eulalia out smoking on a ledge
-her parallel. Good morning.
A wave. Still branching:
the exile this body
makes willing to yours. One arboring
commonarium.
One loosening floor.
*Photo courtesy ProdigalSista.