The Little Things

There is a matter That fills the space between my ribs Dark, disparaging hues of violet and blue It’s heavy, this awful matter It’s heavy and awful and it hurts An ache like no other One certain to be there when I lay down to sleep And sit up to wake A consistent aspect of my life for years Years Then there will be an experience I will be walking on the sidewalk Early morning, en route to class A late fall chill runs its breezy fingers through my hair Like mama in hot summer heat And in this moment The hues above my stomach are sage and spring-sky The weight lifts And for a while A time un-measured I am happy Optimistic Or maybe The instance consists of The afternoon sun Pouring through the gauzy curtains Of my bedroom windows Dreamily illuminating the room In a way in which I’ve never before seen it And the hues between my lungs Are warm brandy and daylilies The matter lets up And I find bliss in sun-drenched sheets Perhaps The matter-lifting occurrence Is one in which I hear my brother whistling Or I smell the familiar memory of Lake Placid I envelop my cold skin in warm fleece My mother sends me a love note Or Dad sends lyrics to a song Or maybe when my lover presses his lips to mine Colors are bright inside me Cooling Refreshing Livening In the space between my ribs Above my stomach Between my lungs