World map

Last night, I ran my
Hands over the pages of my
Old, musty atlas, over ridges
And oceans, and trenches of
Deep blue and indigo, and I
Found ranges of mountains that
Curved inward and outward like
Your mouth when you said my
Name, and I found narrow
Crevices and contours on
The maps, like the laughter
Lines on your face, and the
Crinkles near your eyes, and the
Lakes and ponds and hills and
Valleys all swayed to the rhythm of
Your breath, almost like you
Came alive, and stood in front of
Me, through the tattered,
Thin sheets of parchment.



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