wisdom, you.

if your eyes are
black
like nighttime coal
i will not
look away.

if your mouth is
small
and your voice
a booming ocean
i will say
"speak."

if your hands
are older
than mine.
if they've touched more
held more,
felt more -
i will grasp them.

i will hold them to my face
and place them over
my eyes.
i will veil my sparkle
in favor of truth
in favor of gravity
-
heavy
on my head
your hands.

i will ask you to press down
until i can't remember
what it felt like
before i asked.
before i lay flat
beneath the weight of you.
sinking deeper into
the earth -
this ground -
until i understood
what i did not
know
before.