Poetry. Life is no lightweight thing, "we are reborn in our heavy steps, our secrets zippered shut on our backs." Our humanity, our bodies, is where we find ourselves in these poems, in the drama, in the finality of acceptance and self- determination, at the edge in which we burn white hot. The inward entanglement of two bodies strong in love, in leaving, in struggle, emotions and feelings, thick, palpable, and wonderment too…whatever it is we experience, the body is the doorway, the body pushing against gravity, pulled by its own vision, needs and desires, "our secrets"…leave us with "mud up to our ankles." Love, in Wayward Lines, is fathoms into the quick, leaving the shallows of fantasy, romance. The body is our connection, here is breath, teeth, throat, mouth, tongue, arms, skin…eyes throb, our backs carry the world and our dreams, "hands full of dark." The body, life, is its own hunger and the beauty, even when we feel broken. These are poems of relationship, of home…and traversing the impossible as we feel every inch of it.