day one hundred fifty-one: your body is a land of wonder.

"you head won't hit the pillow
without my hand behind it"
and we know now, that's not
how the song goes,
but that's not what matters
there's this thing called magic
and i'm almost a believer
because when i said that word
and you took my words
and made them your own
by repeating them to me
in reverse order
of logical alignment
it made sense
that it would be you
who might finally get it
and there are days that i lose hope,
lose heart
lose strength
but days like that night
make me remember
that words-- yours, mine, hers, his,
are not just words
but whispers of the heart.