I have a map that only I
understand.

You won’t get there.
The way hummingbirds gather
by the balcony.
Deliver messages of unsaid love.

Make better use of your time,
they said.

I do.
I touch our parts until they bruise.
I never say I love you.
I look to my garden for answers.

This soil full of butterflies.
Soil full of change.

You are so weird.

These short, red nails
are the thunder. The map.
Make sure you can see them.
I ask you to tell me when
you do.

So much red.

The way it feels safe.
Only.

I fold my hands under the ground
to meet the roots
of men close enough,

like you,

but never close.