there was a moment in our history
at least half a billion years ago
when you showed up with the rain on my doorstep
& wordlessly handed me your tired past
like tattered butterflies pinned in place

& said you’d seen an angel in your apartment
scratching words into your coffee table
in languages you couldn’t understand

and would i could i did i think that maybe
the world was full of signs
and we just never learned to read them (or each other)
in the moments when it mattered?

& over your head a cloud of birds
broke open against a worried sky
and suddenly i knew
i’d never learned to believe in anything
but wings.

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