
STACKING WOOD
writings & humanifestos
Point of contact
You appeal to the sadness in me.
That’s where my love grows.
It’s the sadness that settles in
when a stranger is unexpectedly kind
and you know you’ll never see them
again.
You touch on that weight in my chest.
Could you ever see a home in me?
Pushing you from my tired mind
I get on with the day.
The day and I go out to lunch
and even walk down the street holding hands.
I take out the trash, do the dishes, water my plants,
pushing you out from my feet—
at each point of contact.
As toe grazes door,
as sole hits floor.