teresa

there are birds that live in these walls

that never land, that only perch for a moment

finding chinks in the stone

to still ceaseless wings

a few breaths

to have a soul like theirs

to walk through these streets asleep

sleep i’ve only known within your house

that tenseless burning in which i am suspended

who knows how many years or minutes 

that silence in which you pierced me

my trembling hands on wooden beads

your seraph

drawing blood

droplets on the cold stone

i saw the shape of heaven

your hexad

in this vaulted room

a dome of cells 

and flowing honey

your saints tucked into six-sided rooms

sleeping forever

the way i sleep in you

when my edges are lost in yours

were i a bird,

i would fly to the sun

to burn the way i burn in you