Posts

he’s mine

a feeling, a truth

I’ll never

get used to

a warmth budding

in my chest

he’s mine

walking ’round the corner

seeing you sitting there

handsome, cute

so fully you

he’s mine

looking at your sleeping

face, all rest and being

he’s mine

holding me, smiling

into my eyes

arms around arms

he’s mine.

– 12/6

to lie tangled

under white down as

the sun bursts over

the mountains’ ripple

and curve, protecting

the long flat tangle

of farms and orchards.

I lie there, under all

that flagrant blue, warm

and small and curled

into you, just as you are

into me.

and we lie safe, and home

in the beautiful bigness

of it all–

small

and safe and

free.

– 12/6

as the mountains rise

into view, a barely

there blue

I began to feel you again

the way I did mere hours

after our words changed

everything

and our worlds merged.

they’ve been merged, true

since the day we promised

and every day, wonderful

and yet

these last weeks, I’ve felt

that I’ve been

losing you, a little, in the

day to day, our unity

fading

slightly with each passing

friction and uncovering.

desperate but not knowing

how

to draw close again, to you or

myself.

but here as we enter a little

bit of wild again, I feel

our circles of self coming

back to overlap, to

harmony and I look over at you

and think–

there you are.

I’m home.

– 12/6

I was already underwater

when they told me to put it on.

the scuba suit, the mask

the too heavy oxygen tank and

cumbersome hose–

but I was already drowning.

underwater world, everything

a strange tint, too still, too

thick, like moving through goop

limbs

heavy

lungs like banded bird wings

flightless

while everyone else can breathe

just fine

yet I can’t

get enough

can’t force

the little air in

through all this pressure

on my chest.

they look at me

disapprovingly.

‘just put it on,’ they say

‘get yourself under

control, you’ll feel better.’

they’ll feel better.

but it’s the world that’s wrong.

no suit will change that.

but I wrestle it in place and it’s

oh so claustrophobic but

my skin feels a little thicker–

‘I did it,’ I say, looking at them

underwater breathers

ignoring the world

‘you happy now?’

but they bang on the glass

leaving fingerprints

‘let us in, let us in!’ they cry.

I pull back, now afraid

they’ll break it, and I’ll lose

the little air I have

wrestled into steel-trap lungs–

‘I can’t,’ I say.

‘don’t you know? you

should know–

I can’t.’

– 11/10

Sometimes

I hate myself a little

for still grieving

one universe

when I’ve found another.

but universes don’t

replace universes, don’t

you know?

they are their own entities

entirely unique and

special

and whole in their

ownness

and of

course I’m still

grieving,

who wouldn’t?

you can cry and laugh

at the same time,

don’t you?

endings and beginnings all

bundled into

one.

I forgive myself.

when I look back on today

and tomorrow

I want to remember.

remember the feeling

of almost,

ready to be fulfilled.

remember all our friends

crowded around that long table

so many we needed

extra chairs to make room

for all that love

so much it overflowed

into tears.

I want to remember the

crescent moon and how

that one star seemed to

float

so close

the air so clean, so full

of peace, and grass and

the name of the Lord

on so many tongues

and His presence

over us, covering

what is and is soon to be.

I want

to remember

walking along the gravel

hand in hand

petting the horse’s soft

looming head through

the fence in the dark and just

feeling at home

finally

with you.

sitting on the porch

kissing you, with both hands.

is this how we’ll do it

tomorrow, you ask?

yes, I say.

3-5 seconds, not long enough

to thoroughly savor

the taste of I love you

but it’ll do.

sitting on the porch in

the night, full circle to when

this all began, we

began

and I tasted forever

for the first time–

here we are.

full

with the rightness

of being here

with you,

with promise.

every tomorrow with you

pregnant

with the hope

of all we have

to live.

– 9/11

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.