the best kind of collision
Allison Merrell


two bright storms on the
border of knowing when to move
to the next note
or to hold
always a touch out of view
of the fast lane

hands spread across
the floor
we crave the color of midnight talks
my jagged edges fit with yours
warm and desperate

when highlights hit the edge just right
they shine in the shade
lilting and jumping
a waltz of hellos

the hollows of my neck melt
shoulder to shoulder
we’ve learned to slow down

i haven’t come across a wall in a long time.

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