Late night & only sometimes, we let

ourselves remake the hours, blue
-print another kind of

dwelling, some place called stay,
some place that makes room.

You say why not a kitchen
-garden & I’m thinking deep

-set window where we’d stand
looking out & some plot—

small—to tend, cultivate, then
turn over, let season then let

season over. Until there might
be anywhere with you, to map

all the hours you say & keep
saying how & I’m thinking harvest.





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