My poem illuminates the night like a golden moon,
like fireflies on the trees, and the love I ever owned;
constructed feelings, somehow are still unexplained,
like bubbles of morning air, how it kissed my skin.

It's not how our hearts intertwined all of the sudden,
but how our language diverged; beautifully spoken,
and when my mind engorges reality, so slow, so slow,
that's when I write those lovely words only for you.

I promised that I wouldn't write another poem about her
Except just this last one
Where sun shines around you
As I look up from the grass
It smelled like weeds and summer and dirt
Grease from working on your dads truck

I never touched one of his tools

But something about warm finger tips
Makes me lose electrical control
Feet up on the dashboard
With the doors open
And every star ever invented in the sky

One was when we were together after the good days ended
It was in my kitchen
We were both just lingering in Alonedom
and then all of a sudden my head was on his shoulder
and I don't know how we got there
but we stayed there
and it wasn't one of those still embraces
we were moving together in place.

The other was another time
that I cannot mention
without trembling.

It's time to say goodnight again
Time to climb down off my high horse
I lean my pride back against the wall
Or at least what's left of it
There's a place that I can go
Where life is slow
The wind and snow
Where mountains are green and full
Of fiddle ferns as long as your arms
There is a wooden house on the hill
With a drive that turns around
And I can climb those stairs
I can lay next to her in bed
We try to make sense of the lone lightbulb above us
Reach our fingers up and see who can hold their finger the longest
Where you carved our names in the wall with a pocket knife
Where all is forgiven.
But a small barb aims me still
Right between the ribs
When I think on my sins