at the top of the hill is a very small house.
the boys in town go there
to try and knock out the highest windows.
they do this to impress the girls they
drag up there with them.
the girls smile and whisper
while the boys pretend to fight.
the boys believe the louder their body is
the brighter their hearts will look - they push each other and jump into the air.
they make fists. they play-fight,
and imagine what it means
to not be scared.
the girls laugh at this because they imagine the same thing
but in a different way. the girls do this
to hide the quiet libraries of curiosity
they hold in their chests.
they pretend not to know how the world works, that the boys are silly and
know too much about nothing.
THE GIRLS PICK UP ROCKS to show
how one throws something with weight.
the boys shrug this off.
they are not impressed
or pretend not to be.
but the book on the inside of their skin is
bound of the same trembling papers
the girls are made of.
neither of them yet know
what the shapeless water of love is,
anything they hold tightly
falls between their fingers.
they are wet. but their hearts
have begun to quicken.
and run six footed.
around the fire.
and in certain hours of touching
feel sparks flying out of them.
they watch and WHISPER. the few times
they hear the distant breaking
of glass from up on high,
little trees inside their chests
uproot themselves and become small but
very tall houses with brand new windows
placed in their walls waiting for the world
to break its way inside.
this is why they come to the house -
to show how far their bodies
can send something into time.
to show how far into the dark
they can hurl the earth.
to make sing some small rock
pitched perfect on accident.
from "the feather room"
by anis mojgani
ps thanks for sharing