Author
airplanes over
Missouri fields
to
wrestling games on the
bedroom floor
a
whirlwind of weeks
in which
I somehow love you
more than before
rearranging the living
room, putting up
with me crying over my
childhood home
laughing at the
sight of you
busting out of the
bathroom door
wet hair
with my robe on
strike a pose
and
leaning over you
hands to either side
of your bare chest
my hair falling
like a thin curtain
I can’t help
falling in love
with you
over and
over
again
– 7/20
I didn’t think I’d cry
because we knew
this was coming
we’d pre-promised
after all.
but I underestimated
the power
of the thing in my chest
forgot how strong
it still is, even
in its battered, scarred
state, and when
you moved to kneel…
the tears came
the feeling welling in
my throat, rising
in my chest as I saw
the same in your eyes.
and before you spoke
we were both crying
for the joy of it
for having each other
for the beauty
and bond of
promising
for speaking the words
aloud and hearing them
accepted, for being
accepted
to know that you
are home
for good and for
always.
home.
– 7/5/21
7/2
not the day I
would have chosen,
but when it was happening
I felt nothing
but joy.
and in the end maybe
it’s a good thing
this part of my life coming
full circle
the best and worst day
of the year
when I hoped beyond
hope he’d
reach out
feel loved by me, maybe
show a little back.
the barest crumbs
were my banquet
and I accepted them with
everything
I had–and then
readied myself again
to wait
365 days
until next year.
I told myself it was
worth it. just to get
a tiny piece of him.
and now, on the second
year I kept to myself
no acknowledgement except
the lingering sorrow
in my heart–
there was you.
you.
you kneeling before me
offering me
everything
everything
everything
365 days a year
24/7
no more waiting for
crumbs just to
pretend to be satisfied.
with you, the banquet
is real, and I don’t have
to claw, fight my way
to your attention or sit
in my corner of the world
hoping you’ll come
visit me.
no, you kneel and offer
your heart, your mind
your body, your time
your emotions
your love, your grief
your sacrifice
your all
for me
for me
for me.
on this one day
of the year when I
took little and felt it
the world
I’m given everything
offered freely
and I’m ready
to offer in return
knowing the truth of it–
no more crumbs
not for me.
– 7/5/21
the pull I may feel
for the rest of my life
the way my body feels alive
in new air, touching and
tasting and laughing new things
experiences collected like
annotated Polaroids on the wall,
honey lavender coffee on my
tongue, a giant bed to
sleep in, crisp air and too-thin
jacket waking me up with a
breath.
but also–you.
you, waking up in the apartment
snuggling Phoenix in the
bed, making dinner, watching
Breaking Bad, familiar
smells, the soft of
blanket, the way your
skin feels on mine, intoxicating and
home.
when I look at the skyline
I am thinking of
mountains
and also of you.
a pull and push that perhaps
keeps me balanced
a homing beacon and a
star-flung reaching
in and out of my body
at the same time
a dreamer with a heartbeat
that doesn’t
quite
belong only
to just her.
my heartbeat glows
that’s what I feel em-
nating, when you
hold me.
it reminds me of walking
down that dirt road under
New Zealand sky with
all the stars out and pul-
sing with the sheer joy
of cool fiery existence
the galaxy glowing softly
for me to see.
it reminds me how as my gaze
drif-
ted down, down to the hills
rising on either side of me
the glowworms shone
quietly, the same living cobalt
haloed in soft white
so numerous, the stars seemed
to meld with the earth
a universe of living light.
here in your arms, it
reminds me of the feeling
of light filling me, light from
outside and
in
light of me and through me and
from me.
the light of wonder-
ing at the mir-
acle of fitting, of
being right
where
I’m supposed
to be.
too many things I could say that I am
and even more that I am not
which define me more?
who can say which memory
weighs
heavier
and which should?
life story, what brought me life, what
took it what
tore at it and chewed it and
s p i t it out and somehow
I was still breathing?
or what nurtured and blew on the
soul of me like I was a
fledgling fire, embers on the verge
of greatness or
fizzle-out.
who’s to say, really.
maybe it’s all
the story of me
the befores and
afters and
inbetweens.
maybe its all ground up into the
core of me, ashes and firebird feathers
death and flying
in
the
same
breath.
I wish I could crawl inside your memories and live there.
I wish I could walk through your childhood ones, the
good ones, the hard
ones, two of us tiptoeing down the hall
barefoot, floorboards creaking, voices echoing
in the walls.
I wish I could fly into your savored ones, pop
into your body for just
a moment, not to
invade, just to sample
the sweetness of your first ice cream cone
all your own
together with you,
that pink sunburst breaking over your tongue.
I wish I had been there for all the
moments, brilliant and hard and messy and
hopeful and strange.
All the thoughts, snippets of
sound that whiz around in your
mind when you’re thinking and not
talking and I wonder–what’s
going on in there?
and you say nothing, and then say
I love you
and smile, and I don’t mind.
I wish I was there for it all. To be
damaged with you and
heal with you and sing with
you and fall
with you and get up again
with you and wonder with you and
BLOOM
with you.
This wonder of together is so special, I wish
I could stretch my fingers far enough
r e a c h i n g
backward into forever,
and make it true.
Thank God we never have to be alone
again.
Thank God
I have you.
piece of polished
moon-shine, star-
light perched
on my finger, on a band
of blushing gold
delicate, barely
there, a breath
gleaming like a secret
just for me
for everyone to see
but not necessarily
to understand
the way love beats
between us
a star pulsing im-
perceptibly, yet felt
by all
a bond, a light
a mystery on my
finger–you and me.
– 7/5/21
Here’s what I have learned.
The holes don’t go away, but something else moves in.
You’ve been hollowed out, a cracked
oak yanked wide
open by unyielding, unforgiving hands,
They don’t care what they break as they
scoop out the most precious, spongy
part of you
and squeeze.
As the footsteps fade,
and the ache deepens
you wonder what is left of you.
You wonder and you wonder and all
you can do is sip cool life into your roots
in tiny unbearable spurts
until you stop shriveling into nothing
and hold steady.
Here’s the thing they don’t tell you:
The holes don’t go away, but something else moves in–
if you let it.
You have a choice, not to let it.
You have a choice to remember that spongy
beating heart and remember how
alive and wondrous and
irreplaceable
it is.
You have a choice. And that choice,
It isn’t wrong.
But… if you let it die. When you know
for good and true, love
has forgotten you.
When you let the wind kiss and echo
through that hollow in the center of
everything that makes you,
you.
When.
Then, perhaps,
something else can ask for permission
just for a moment, to try that space.
To see how it
fits.
To see how
the echo of loss muffles when a
breathing thing sits quietly
ruffling its feathers in contented
silence. To just
sit.
Sit and see… sit and
feel how the air warms
and the silence sweetens
sit and see what happens
when you let an unrepairable wound
breathe.
be… can you bear it–
touched.
And soon… so slowly soon
in a long slow blink
you realize
you can’t imagine breathing
without this new, beautiful
equally breakable thing nestled
in the center of everything
that once was.
The hole didn’t go away.
But something else–
something else made it home.
And so, here
we are
together.
It’s been a while since I’ve written, and
days have spun to months have spun
to almost years like golden thread that
shimmers, disappearing when it catches
the light, so you’re not certain
it was even there at all–
and yet, maybe that’s just the fear
that it was all
a dream
that one day I’ll wake up and there will be
no
warm breathing body beside me
a hand sprawled close to my pillow
still eyelashes breathing peace
no
curled furry breathing joy
paws, cold nose
tucked by our feet
taking up entirely too much space
wonderful. wondrous.
mine.
how strange it is, how bittersweet
to have a life so good
you’re scared it will melt like
clay off a riverbank
like the sweetest nightdream.
and yet, the moments . . .
a note by the door, a new
record of our favorite song that
blared from the speakers on
our honeymoon, windows down, Maine
pines flashing in the air so close
I can smell their sticky richness, blending
with the sharp salt of the wild, flailing sea –
now, dancing with our dog in the
warm yellows of the living room
paws in hands, dinner on the couch
as we listen to the clear tones
gasping into a laugh as we hear
the echoes behind the melody we
could never hear before in the record’s
crisp resonance.
this–this. how could this not
be real,
forever?
I once thought the same
many times before
and now it’s all
faded.
but maybe
maybe
I’ve endured enough
maybe,
maybe
this unspoken promise
in the way you look at me
all shining love and green mischief
in the way her heartbeat thuds
under fur beneath my hand–
maybe this
can be
true.