vast

and this is
vast,
wide enough to carve
the length of my ribs open,
split along the vein and picked clean
by the birds,
trace your fingers along the edge
of the clouds,
hooked beneath and pull
hard enough to stir a breeze.

i’ll ask for the blood
and the bone of my body,
empty along the horizon,
stretched along the soft
curvature of the earth
and abandoned
face down in the fields,
for time long enough
for it to flood again.

in the end you
are left with nothing
but dust,
the glint of the sun,
the glare of the grass,
the scratch of the water
as it rises
inch by inch,
foot by foot,
mile by mile
along the edge of the shore
in the fields.

for we are nothing

but tiny.