“Will You Still Leave with Me Tomorrow?”
You’ll be special
in memories of you
written on cold breaths:
a route of your choice,
a horse who knows no tomorrow,
a pet who leaves love.
I’m mice.
I’m marbles.
My bones climb to attics without me.
Come along:
we’ll skip the perfume counters
red bullseye parlors, targets at our backs
larynx and lynx eyes, radio silence
ends of transmission: we’re androids
running from a second chance
a wave that could’ve crashed differently
a deployment ritual
beyond the rivets of our design
or kiss me in the rivers
scents hold of you in strummed hours.
nicholauspatnaude 
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