Your Voice, My Name, Love Letters

Your fingers find music in my ribcage
like a child meeting their very first piano
words bounce like quarters off my sternum
coinslot sighs caught in the latticework of lungs,

You say my name like rosebushes  
climbing, 

ambitious past their trellis.

Your voice is a train whistle in foreign city
Your voice is a fever comprised of equal parts mathematics, alchemy, and hearbreak
Your voice is a helicopter heartbeat 

all four parts conjoin a centrifuge of THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP
Your voice is cedar burning thin and clear.


Yesterday in the shower 

when you asked
how I’d feel if you took my name
Your voice hit my bones like a tuning fork

my body became water over riverbones.

You say my name like rosebushes
Long-stemmed words exit out the throat
Ten letters running skinny-legged in your signature.
Take it.
My grandmother told me
the root word of our name means.
Home
And I want your voice.

You say my name like doorknobs and evergiving hinges
Take my name
open all of my syllables
on dotted lines and after each expectant X
Our matched signatures will be rosebushes burning.

Not at all

All over-planned love letters fail.

The words come without timetables or perpendicular creases

sounds bigger than the filling of black spaces.

If I could, I would buy you flowers every day

Last night I dreampt of red roses
blossoming into a thorny alphabet.
With stemmed parenthesis
and jagged leaves
I left the petals of a love letter in your bed.