If I am you and you are me,
let us pass by one another,

in the ether:

Alone, but not lonely.

Maybe next time it will be easier.
I thought we get to keep just a little.
You were something familiar
and I was safe.

Did we happen to catch a glimpse?

I’ll take your socks and you can have my insecurity.

Grief;
It’s an unstoppable force
meeting an immovable object.

I made a whole universe once.
It didn’t take the edge off.

I’m not done punishing the heavens
for taking you away from me.

I wrote you and poem,
Just because, or just because I love you.
Either way, I did,

and I do.

It’s your silence.
There was a time that I hated you for it.
Just say anything, I would say.
I can’t, you didn’t say.


Now I just wish I could hear you be silent,
one more time.

It was such a race.
Our boots both casting earthy clay,
perfect little symbols born of tread and sand and sweat.
It’s the ocean, I think: I can smell it.
It’s stone and sand and salt,
but then I know it’s in my mouth. It’s blood.

I look away.
This needs to be dignified, I think.
I’m taking a life. We both got dressed up for this.
The terror, the resolute acceptance of this day being my last,
it’s replaced by the blue-green pallor of your cheeks
and the knowledge that only one of us can come back.

It’s a lie we tell ourselves though;
we all died that day.
And none of us are coming back.

Oh, how I fear this day.
My love. My life.
How I long to follow,
that we may wash together,
that we may beat upon the salty rocks,
until the milky flow sinks far below the light.
May we sink until the day burns no more.

Oh, how I fear the time.
Let there be just one last day;
just one last sun
in one last place
that I finally find your memory fade.
May you burn in me the ash of all,
anew.

Oh, how I fear my will.
Forget me,
that I may be ******.
Bind my hands that I may never hold you.
Cover my eyes that I know not when you are near.
Seal my lips that we may never touch again.
Let me slip below; part your fingers,
cast my blood, and set my flesh
that I may never be tested,
and you may never need remembrance.
My love. My life.

The Fence

In upturned pose, a rusty row.
In soft supple skin does nail find placid purchase.
I cut my arm on the fence, I say.
An accident.

Years later, I’ll tell you about that night.
You’ll say it can’t be and I’ll forgive you;
I’m sure you didn’t know, I say.