I have cut worms in half.
I have put them on hooks
and cast them into the water.

“That is love that wastes a life,”
I thought.
“I will NOT be cut in half.”

But I have seen deserts where little grows.
And that is love that is not

not
willing to
be cut in half when the lover dies.

I walk toward you,
afraid to love you.

So much for cynicism
that says this poem
is for narcissists.
I am pushing against a gale
to
write with my skin
what it is like
to not be alone,
and then,
to be willing to
be,
at the end,
alone.

But not alone.

Maybe to love so much
that missing you
means being cut in half...
is worth it.
Maybe love like that
doesn’t ****.
Maybe it revives.

The People, my people,
loss so great
savors havoc,
hemorages my skin.

Grabbed my sister,
grabbed my nephew,
harries my children...

Howl wide-mouthed
broken toothed,
water-eyed,
feral in my den.

Creator dances,
dances, dances,
dies yet does not die,
shattering these sins,
whirls and steps in battle,
catches my heart’s groan,
knits bone with song,
joys soul in soul,
for life wars:
wins.

Touching your warm skin,
buttercream.
Nestling arm over arm,
closeness dear.

No matter that we argued
whether I brought in the mail or not;
you need more than you acknowledge;
or staying home with the boys is more
important than getting to church on time.

You are my bridge to Other,
I am your human sounding board—
so much more than hollowed wall.

And we,
soft breaths on snow,
swirl round all truth
and find again
its name
is love.

So much of those stars
is just bright lights
until you sincerely gaze at each
and on and on,
and cannot see them all.
So many stars.

So many ones. So many lives.
So many points of terror,
loss,
so many hopes extinguished,
nightmares drawn.

You cannot count them all.
So many stars.

But do not turn away.

Should you turn away,
you close your heart to beauty
burned from torment wells.
Beauty shaped molten lava into
dancing porous stones, brilliant black shards
and nothing lost.

Dances on, outpouring
comfort stones.
All things left here,
waiting on the something more
that we shall gaze into
to see the stars.