Whatever it was
that made me pick up my pen
to write another line
of love, I ask it
to please stay,
stay for a little while
until I finish writing
his first name and last
One Day
My heart is often in pieces
but I know every single piece
travels to its rightful place
in the grace of this life’s unfolding,
and without a doubt they will come
back to me one day. I wait.
Devotion
Everything changes, you know,
including love, including us.
But there are moments,
like this morning, like right now,
like your eyes,
like devotion.
Sometimes, love
Love, Assorted
Some people write you poems – love poems
that could burn a house down in your chest –
they leave you breathless, leave you longing,
and then they just leave, so fast you could taste
dust in your mouth. Some people linger like a
fog, want to stay friends, want to come over
when they feel lonely. Some people forget
to wash the dirty dishes in the sink, forget to
buy milk, forget your birthday and the way
you used to laugh. Some people wake up at night
to tuck the blanket under your chin. Some people
love to exclaim, look what I have done for you!
Some people kiss to turn you inside out,
to adore every secret corner. They kiss
as if your lips were home, haven, the place
that they want to stay forever. Some people
kiss so they could go somewhere else, eyes
open, hands fumbling with your blouse buttons.
Some people can’t say I love you until
they’ve studied your past, the exes you’ve
dated, the mistakes you’ve made. God knows
there must be a war raging inside their soul.
Some people chase wild things, hunt them at night
for thrills, and stumble back to your bed at
five a.m., smelling of cheap booze and
strangers. Some people want to bake all kinds
of bread for you, stay home with you, cuddles
and warm socks, hot cocoa on the couch.
Some love is the fire that warms you through and
through, and you will never grow cold again.
Some love is the gum that gets stuck underneath
your shoes. Makes you walk unevenly for miles.
Becomes nasty. Becomes quite impossible to get rid of.
Good Morning
Do not forget that each day
begins with a gorgeous sunrise
followed by the rest of your life.
Roses
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Almost
If I were to write about it, I would begin
at the moment you sat down on my couch. You had
the gentleness of the moon in your gaze, as we
talked about the rain that never came. I could
write a small poem about the space between
our knees that never touched, a space we held quietly
into the night. I could even begin to confess
that I wanted so badly to touch your hair but
didn’t, because my hands are already cold and you are
an astonishment, because love is a terrible
fire and what if I love you forever. My darling,
I am writing this poem to tell you that there are evenings
when I sit down on this couch of mine, alone, I could
still feel your eyes on me, soft, like the rain.
Serengeti
The perils of your hunger
hunt me down inside. My thighs burn
from your first bite, my lonesome hunter.
When the sun is finished, a rift.
Between you and me there exits
only a deep forest, and one hopeless word,
Prey.
SW Altair 