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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.

henceforth

him

is now you

and you

is now him.

I will no longer

center my life

around someone

who does not want me.

I know I said

I’d never move on

and believed it.

I could have held to that

I still believe it was

my right

if I wanted it.

Can you blame me

for wanting to be sure?

I called it an experiment

letting him in

but in reality I never would

have let him close

if he wasn’t special

if there wasn’t a chance

I could love him back

the way I think he loves me.

So here we are.

I’ve said the words

to someone else

and I mean them.

I miss you. But I gave

you ten million chances

and you didn’t hold on

to one.

I told him there was only

half a chance

I could ever love him back.

And he took it.

And he held on.

So, so gently

but he wasn’t going anywhere

not unless I wanted him to.

And I love him for all that he is

Just like I loved you for all that you are

and our universe just never came.

And I’m coming to realize–

that it was never

my fault.

When you love someone

you fight

you don’t

let go.

If you’re loved back

they will fight for you

an equal force, raging together

against the dark, urging one another

onward and higher.

The truth is you only fought

halfway

and then stopped altogether.

And I–

I deserve better

than that.

I said yes.

I said yes to something new

despite the fear

despite the love for you

beating in my chest

I said yes.

And here’s the weird part–

I’m not sorry

I did.

I need

to know

if I’m just

another

memory

to you.