Certainly, if by some unimaginable horror,
We find ourselves fighting side by side
Amidst rock and burnt grass
In some terrible war,
Your true, heroic nature would be clear;
Apparent to me,
Like the confidence with which you carry
The rightness of all things.
Preoccupation with death punctuates
And colors my thoughts
In purples and blues and blacks.
A bruise on my mind,
Hematic and bulging against better moments,
Bleeding through layers of tissue to find
Sunlight and oxygen before it ever arrives.
Maybe something in me is sick,
That I understand you in terms of your absence,
You perfectly temporary thing.
I have to love you now, urgently.
There is some black Spring blooming—
I can smell the dirt and rot in the air.
I’m sorry to frame you in fire and fatalism.
If we lasted forever then what would the
Fighting and fucking and feeding and
Finding and fumbling for one another be for?
Wondrously, as if in a waking dream,
We find ourselves living side by side
Amidst concrete and sweetgrass
In an extant dance.
Your quiet, humble nature illuminates;
Revelatory,
Like the comfort with which you carry
The goodness of all things.
Reflection on life envelops
And colors my thoughts
In greens and blues and browns.
A garden in my mind,
Verdant and climbing through (across) time,
Reaching through layers of soil to find
Sunlight and oxygen when it’s time to arrive.
Maybe something in me is searching,
That I understand you in singular terms,
You refulgent, irreplicable thing.
I love you, now, easily.
There is a bright Spring blooming—
I can see the light through the pines.
I’m eager to frame you in flowers and fragrance.
Each little moment of
Laughing and loving and longing and
Learning and lingering’s what living is for.