I would fold
a thousand paper cranes
would fight away all those demons
that leave scrataches over your skin
just so that you know
that they don’t leave
through bloody trails.
I look at you and see all the ways
a soul can bruise, and I wish
I could sink my hands into your flesh
and light lanterns along your spine
so you know that there’s nothing
when I see you.
When the wind blows
all your candles out, when the stars
turn to plumes of smoke,
when your mother makes you watch
all the matches burn out in her eyes,
Let me hold your hand, your skin,
the stones you’ve swallowed in your sleep.
slip your soul out of your skin
so you can sleep in my palms