I admit to this
incompetence
existing where you hover

when skin insists
the silent fits
truth is, I fit
the incidental other

my lip or bones
shake to remind
these never-ending hours

from black to fooled
I saw in you
the grab of drowning flowers

what love is well
can never tell
the right in what I do

the finding in
this woman’s hand
what won't belong to you

to run
stay
stand
believe

to love as an action
not as a feeling

to breathe
and to see
as with intention
& not as a need

and to need

these needs are burning wants
& I want everything in terms of
*freeing

to replant or relearn
like they're the same thing
that to swallow a seed
is like eating the tree

water feeds worry
& words tell me
n o t h i n g

but you told me that you loved me
& it is all I can believe

tonight i'm finding poems
in every place you stood
& I am digging deep in gardens
busting knuckles over wood

the grace to understand, my love
is doing me no good
it is the way you burn inside of me
I wish you understood

love is in the silence
the nothing that fronts completion
the smell and ******
trusting in care
it is in caring

quieting down for the loud of your lover
love like this, completely or
do not claim the word
love is in the consistency and not the pattern
finding love in the letting

love is in the letting and moving
the dancing of bodies

it is in forgetting
and pulling it all through

the way two bodies feel in bed
waking up wanting to do it all
over and over and over again