2018 Colleen M. Brown Prize

 

 

i want to put my pale

hands in yours and hold them

there until the shades blend

together like drops of clear rain

that meld into muddy water

until our fingers grow

roots that would wither

at the thought of pulling apart

i want to feel the same wind

that breathes life into you

i want to watch wrinkles

grow rings around our knuckles

until the silver hatchet glides

through our limbs and we fall

to the ground, like paper planes.