With every breath today
I let you go. I don’t mean this
lightly. And with every inhale
today, I let you back in.
Softly. All day like this. Flopping.
Flopping and falling. Oh
the ridiculous failure of it all.
And the wonder. Shit.
If this is awe, I am sick of it.
Just in the last nine lines
I have let you go another nine times.
And ten times opened to you again.
I am too tired to fix anything.
The dress hem. The headphone
cord that one of the children chewed.
Our hearts. I have stopped believing in lack.
And then I believe it again.
What I know: Here we are.
I let you in. I let you go.
Through the skylight,
I watch a robin land
on a branch too thin,
watch it fly away.