The Breath of Time

Your breath is the tide at six-ten
Flowing over my stranded arm on the sofa
Fingerprints along the coffee cup are migrating
Saluting the 127th sunset
We practice folding eternity into
The morning light popped out of the toaster
Until all unknowns soften
Lint hanging from sweater cuffs
Deep in the washing machine drum
Stars are born and die
But you always manage to salvage
All the wrinkles of my mysteries in the whirlpool
Ironing the entire galaxy with a good morning
Migratory birds pressing pause on the remote control
Icicles crystallizing along your eyelashes
In the news, the world is speeding up its disintegration
But we slowly corroborate the palm lines and tree rings
In a night where all love songs fail
You hum off-key moonlight as a lullaby
Ruins sprouting between our teeth
Growing into breakwaters
In the weather forecast's error margin
Filled with rain that won't fade
And you always leave a silent ear whisper
In this world with off-the-charts decibels
Where time curls into a sleeping cat in our palms