what would I undo for you
is a game I play often.
and in my mind, the answer
is always everything.
undo the little plot of garden out front
for the sight of your knuckles kneading dough,
exchange time spent swinging on a hammock
for another minute of my head in your lap,
dissolve memory of wading in the Aegean Sea
for another kiss to your forehead, river-like vein
running in between,
erase the moment of pocketing keys
of a new home
for my name to be called again,
skip stumbling upon love–
because yours was the first
and truest kind, and because
all that sprouted after
was only through your seeded prayers
from before.
