before before

I wrap myself in your stories
over and over
the way you inhale heavy hands of reality
and exhale dewy sunlight through the cracks in our waking

I wonder what it is like inside a body
stretched thin in its tenderness
pressed to the edge of its opening
without ever caving
without ever trying 
to destroy itself 

I wonder if you would agree
with this distinction

if the fresh green in your fingertips 
feels like shelter
instead of a field of resurrection 
crawling out from under 
our dying

I wonder if you will wait for me
if there is a place for me inside
the soft mouth of your revolutions