Leave room for light.
Like a levitant whisper,
freedom found in the wet wonderment
of the fog pulled across your body
like a curtain—closed, open, alive.

Leave room for light; I have seen
everything, touched the shape of the dark,
each sweet scar.  

I have seen you.
Snowprints in the shape of a girl.

You're only as alone
as you feel—
yes; I know too well those words,
like nestless fledglings, glacier's fallen fruit.
But winter's succumption is almost arrived.
Try not to hope too hard.

Leave room for light.
Don't fear the scoliotic shape
of mercy; its skeleton
rings true.

Ugliness is precious to me,
and for you I swallow every drop of sun,
saving against the day you no longer believe.

It's the promise of sand
soothed into the shape of a pearl,
soft salvation trapped and sleeping.
Like a love replete with impossibility,
unfurling like fern fronds,
green and gray,
the light will let you live.

Try not to hope too hard.