i have turned this body into transportation
made a bus of these bones
wings of my skin
everything about me is meant to be moved
over and over
and through that movement
is displaced
is forgotten
is forcged into stillness somehow
its okay not to understand
the poem under all of this
is a love one
like they all are
is okay to be confused
in th silences of movement
in the splitting of this moment
the breaking of two hearts like bread
the sharing of two mind like wine
would you share with me, this sacrament
allow ourselves to be moved by our own holiness
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