i’ve been thinking a lot
about your hand in mine
the way that our fingers
and palms intertwine

but i think about death
about loss, about worth
i admit that i fear
to return to the earth

where our bodies dissolve
into roots of a tree
and will grow into trunk
then limb, then leaf

but i've heard from a bird
that death will reverse
and your heart will beat hard
like it did at your birth

so hold on for dear life
with your hand in mine
if death makes us let go
it is only for time



© Mike Mortensen

A poem for Tinder.

You look at his photo and think 'he looks hot'
then look at the next one and say 'maybe not'.

The next one is too short and has the wrong hair,
you're making snap judgements it's not really fair.
You swipe and you swipe but none to the right,
you must find one soon or be swiping all night.

The next one looks pretty but has not took the time,
to write he likes dogs or thinks veggies are fine.
You swipe left and swipe left and again you swipe right.
You must not be beautiful, no matches tonight.

You pin all your hopes on that very first date,
you dream of the first kiss, you hope he's not late.
He walks in the bar and you smile a fake smile,
you think of excuses but will stay a short while.

How shallow you are that you won't give it time,
he might have a good heart, he might be just fine.

He's says that he's sorry but can't stay that long,
he's making excuses, and you wore your best thong!

How dare he decide before you've even spoke,
then picks up his drink, goes outside for a smoke.
You sigh and decide to pick up your phone,
a new match from Tinder, you can't get wait to get home.

You sit in your flat, shopping for men,
you swipe left then swipe right and start over again.

You, with words of beauty,
speak in softer tones
where volume is not required
because vibrations
bring to light the meaning

Even if remaining quiet
calms the fears
drifting along your heart

Feelings still shout
in actions shown,
leaving only words unsaid
to speak the true meaning
of the silence