I sleep with 12
pillows; I'm afraid
of the dark.

You anchor me to the rest of my life.
Despite despotic fear,
standing on the quivering edge of being alone -
holding my hand and catching our reflections
on the dark stormy waters of the things we do not know.

You are my dream catcher,
and I promise I will keep yours safe and sound
for whenever you need to be reminded
of why it hurts so badly in the first place.

I planted kisses on your back
and watched you grow into my home.
I drew my flag on your chest
with steady fingers.
But I lost too many battles of our silly civil war
and kept a vapid, trembling score.
I conquered your valleys
but could not climb our hills.

I traversed other mountains,
and let cold winters make me numb.
I flew to bright blue oceans,
drank from the fountains of nature
and its inhabitants.
I tried to leave myself behind
in topography that I could never learn to love.
I determined my home to be whatever I chose.

But I would trade my Sahara
and every aboriginal
because no other country
grows wild with my kiss.

She said, "Imperfection is beauty"
from the cover of *******,
to the girls whose husbands read it
behind their powder smooth backs.
And we tried to believe that
for as long as we could
till she choked on the office
that took her imperfection to bed.

In this garden of Eden
against the back of the church
I am the snake to his naivete.

Her eyes fluttered open after her legs
(hummingbirds and the parting of petals)
and the first thing she felt
was the way he filled her like a mold.
"I need you so much." He said
(have you ever been a craving?)
And her sigh was an acquiesce
To his acquisition of her body
Like a plot of land that he would plow
trusting him to let her bloom
(like sparrows and chariots)
Giving him time to sew (seeds)
himself back into place.

I would go
to someone else.
For help, and advice -
I would claim another bulwark,
hiding in its shadow.
(His banner over me is)
But when I fell in love
with you,
I fell hopelessly out of love
with everyone else.