I sat beneath the old saffron
willow, crumbling leaves
to dust in my soft palms.
Autumn creeped in once again,
setting the trees on fire and carrying
their leaves away with the cool wind.
I looked across the dirt road, at the
old, blackened house, bathed in sunlight.
The peeling paint leapt out like specks of glitter into the wind.
Years of memories were still trapped within its walls.

More than the leaves caught fire.

Your cheeks
are the
      sky

and every freckle is a glittering
star.
Your eyes are like beautiful moons, deep
blue,
like the    
                               sea
and full of

         wonder.

Twisting and turning,
inside I am burning
blackened bones all smeared with ash,
and soot,
and along the edges tinged with yearning.

You were my air, I was your fire
and I was consumed with desire
a longing for you burned me up
like wood,
and the smoke kept on rising, higher.

Stole my breath away with a smile
and your colored wings, all the while
I stood
so very still, but my heart was beating wild.

The suffocating wind was roaring
for your love it was imploring
it would
have been the death of me,
but with you, I am forever soaring.

I remember driving down the sun-baked
city street, on a mission to find
something, somewhere, which
now I cannot remember.
But I do remember this: you pulled
the truck aside and said, “Go grab some of
those pods off those trees.”
When I protested you simply gestured
for me to get going.
To this day, I still have mimosa and catalpa beans
stashed away in an old cigar box, silk trees
waiting to be planted in the
rich, dark earth.

You’ve grown on me
like moss and ivy,
slowly at first but
before you know it, I’m
covered in you, and I
choose not to remember
what it was like to be naked.

I love the way you always
challenge me.
          The way you always
         keep me on my toes.
          The way         you always
get my heart beating
like a drum.
This time, it was a race, only the first one
     to cross the finish line
     was not the winner.
The way you asked me
       what I wanted if I wanted if I won and what would happen
                                                   if I lost.
I tried to hold out on you, love, but your dancing
   fingers and perfect rhythm get me every time.
And when I moaned softly, as our ballet met its coda,
               you yanked me so close that my chest was
   one with yours and you whispered in my ear,

                                                   “I. Win.”

Bruises color your face
and the split lip he
gave you is enough
to warrant it,

but gin on ice
is never enough to cut
the sting of the morning,
after,

the pain on
the inside won’t just
go away with the cool rush of
juniper berries that
tastes like jet engine fuel.

I knew what you
                          were from
    the very beginning.
I saw you from a
                 different angle.
All the others saw a sleek and slender form.
Thin bones that were jam-packed with dreams.
When I looked your way,
I saw
myself,
misunderstood, and
wandering. Lost.
But the way your eyes lit up when you saw me-it
was enough to let me know that
I had
been
found.

There is no real reason
for alphabetical order
because
every essay,
every book,
every poem and every song
is just the same twenty-six
letters
in a different combination
but I’d re-write the entire
alphabet and
give it a new order
if that is what it takes
to get you to understand, not
‘that it’s “I love you,”’ but
‘it’s you that I love.’