Reckoner, take me with you

We took the laundry from the gaping, steamy mouth of the dryer. Reached into its circling, emotionless black depths to pull out our coverings, our precious clothes, moistly hot and sighing tepid heaves of steam. The basement floor was like ice. The basement floor was like rock. We stood together on an icy rock as the long blanket-comforter was pulled slowly from the depths of the steamy, gaping dryer. Out from its circling back mouth we hauled the heavy with moist-heat comforter. Together we pulled. Together we wrapped it around our chilled bodies, and it hugged tightly to our bones. Breathing into your shoulder, breathing into your hair. The mother I’m most close to in my life, yet we are tangibly different. We are strangers by nature of our position. We are strangers by the nature of our tough, impenetrable skins. We are strangers by the nature of our physical limitations- I will never be one with you, no matter how connected I feel. Wrapped together in this warmly moist shell. Wrapped together in warmth, breathing into your hair. Our sighs rising and falling, and legs subtlety swaying. It sounded like the ocean, breathing into your hair. I could feel the waves, and hear their untroubled and sleepy sighing. The blanket wrapped around us like the moist warmth of a beach day. I breathed into you and you breathed life into me- even though we were still separate by the nature of our condemning physical limitations (are you a stranger?) – wrapped up in ourselves, wrapped up in each other, breathing and swaying like waves. Tugging and gripping each other like waves pulling the ever-unravelling hem of the shore. And then we separate like ripples on a blank shore

Reckoner, take me with you

Im too fragile to be anywhere but an embrace or my books. Im too restless to stay there.