I want to do to you
what the dawn does to the sky,
and for all the same reasons.
I want to wash through you and chase away
the dark. I want to light you up and paint you
every kind of pink.
I want to warm you.
I want to put a contract down
on your smile. I want to learn the topography
of your rib cage, the soundtrack behind your
scar tissue, the cheat code to your good days.
I want to mass produce good days for you.
I pack all of this into every “thank you”—stuffing
this poem into two words like every good outfit I own
into a battered suitcase and I have no idea
where I’m going.
Wherever you want to go.
Cierra Lowe, 2023