as i scratch my knee; anxiously

i try to be as still as the pines,
i try to be as still as dirt, as still as seeds
as still as moonlight, i try to not make a sound
though you can hear my footsteps and i can hear my footsteps
as well and my inky breathing and my drumming heart,

morning is like my fingers
lodged deep in your hair,
where the light catches against a cuticle
and sings,

everything begins with the sun above the darkened water,
begins with the darkened water, while the fish below the surface swim in soft concentric circles;