Ungrounding | 2022

Inch apart we lay, growing up next to each other Side by side, dream, wake up, becoming inches taller No fight for space, no things, no ownership A commune of three budding, a single unit Roll it up, cover it up at dawn and now we got something to sit on The bed transformed into a Seat transformed into a Bed transformed into a Seat transformed into a Bed Inch above the ground we lay Red light morse code serenading me to sleep Hush of secret television static blurring boundaries Of who is me and who is she and who is he And who are these teeming families We know this place inside-out We know their voices, their kitchens, their backyards We know their beats, the rhythm of lives going in and out Arms apart we live lives that meet at ground level, rooted feet Hug our true hugs, feel the hearts Separate knowing it's all still the same body The bed transformed into a Seat transformed into a Bed transformed into a Seat transformed into a Bedroom Bed, this a bed, not a seat Seat, this is a seat, not a bed Room, it's a room, where you sleep Sleep, now it's done privately There's a dozen doors between us We don't grow together Just in the same vicinity Just out of earshot There's ownership now There's guard dogs now There's grass growing atop sickly soils now There's fences more than shouts apart now There's no humans in this world besides you and I There's nothing binding us besides what we pry There's no more voices to be heard, just silence and stillness There's no rhythm, there's- there's- There's no ground Our lives are no longer porous The airs we breathe differ Diffuse into eternity Just out of earshot