Divine

I called to you.
Did you hear me
when you hovered in the oblivion.
That magenta fourth dimension?
Could you talk to me?
Or was the gravity too much?

I feel so unsure of you.
So confused about who you impersonate,
who you claim to calm with
your hazy shoulders.

I know that you are
the force behind the running
leopard that I love to
pretend only wants
good for all.

I know that you are the
esophagus of the latent
whale that causes
sands to thunder with every
calm swallow.
This is the you I can understand.

Not the you that has a sweaty
hand on the small of my back.
Not the you whose syrupy breath
flutters against my eardrums,
rumbling my collarbones from the inside.
Shaking my ribcage with silent meanings.

Not the you that is
with us when our stomachs
are gouged out with the hands
of a person who is
hundreds of miles away
and no longer is breathing.

what
who
when
where
are you?

That is the question
that will kill me.