She cannot resist the slate
surface of your skin strengthening
the faith in hers. The floor reverberates 

with the heartbeat of a hummingbird
she sees in the corner
of the sky she forgot to touch. 

The scent of rain falling on slate
draws her to you. In her faltering, she believes
the echoes will never smell 

this sweet again. She cannot see
the hummingbird but knows she heard
its hunger spill over the deck. Recycled 

boards stack up to the ceiling,
broken open
by diamond-shaped clerestory windows. 

She’s not cheating,
she’s using her resources. The black stone
path of possibility shrinks at the edge 

of her thought. Purple gems block the gray
light. You are free to live
with her beside the ocean now 

that the sun has settled down. And the wind will smash
the glass panes into fragments
of salted lies—a beautiful disaster.