To be poor is to go back in time
I have eaten dandelions out of the backyard
And contemplated the guillotine
The revolution of a coin
Skittering to a stop.

what does it feel like to be held
not by another body
not by a set of limbs, a chest, a chin
but
by another soul

what does it feel like
to see truth in another pair of eyes
instead of hidden intentions
instead of absence

what does it feel like
to hear a familiar heartbeat
resounding next to your own
reaching through skin
through bone
two rhythms
indistinguishable

what does it feel like
to write poems about
a love that exists

I dreamt I lived forever
And that age and wrinkle never came
I dreamt that the world was better
And that peace grew evermore

Her love towered over me
And my heart was still
Her spirit flowed through her body around my own
And grasped the depths that wallowed low

I asked her what my time meant
To live towards no end
To be and to not fear
That we are all here by chance
And to love the odds from our gods
That the moment was taken
And across a billion years and countless specks of stars…

We are here
And forevermore
Our love goes on