my heart is nestled
in the eye of this hurricane.
(it feels like outer space.
no sound, no gravity, no traffic, no texts.
a vacuum from disaster.)
steady beats and clarity glow
against a messy horizon you sketched
with your confused pen.
yellow tape, orange cones frame a home.
it was ours, wasn’t it?
you know my love is a patient bug.
(caterpillars move slow
before becoming butterflies.)
we made music in the living room,
even the lawn got landscaped.
did you really give up on our cup of coffee?
are you just out for tea with a good friend?
when you return
(because you really should)
you can find me in the tool shed.
where is the hammer?
where are the nails?
where are my glasses, dear?
where are the pieces that make sense?
a tool belt hangs on my waist
just below my calm heart.