From the corner of my eye,
I watched.
I noticed the way you lean in your chair,
The way you laugh like a storm in a drought.

Tilting your head back just enough,
Your bottom jaw protrudes,
Displaying your sharp chin.
You grin wide like the skies parting,
And closing your eyes,
Your shoulders shake like thunder.
You rain in drops of iridescence
That douse the fires in my arid attentiveness.

At the dawn of our day,
When I first began to know you,
Drinking too much,
Smiling at our fitful hands,
You carved out a piece of my being
And interred it within yourself.

This is not a complaint though.
I would give you every ounce of me,
Carved into whatever shapes suit your desires,
Whittling away at myself
With all the craftsmanship of Donatello.

With this piece,
You possess me completely
Everywhere you go.
Now you stretch my love across oceans
And my heart sets sail
In pilgrimage of you.

I’d drink every drop in the sea
And walk on its barren floor
To be close to you again.
I’d build a bridge of river-foraged driftwood
From my door to yours
Just to wrap my arms around you
For a moment or two.

But my body is already too saturated
With the sodden lamentations of missing you.
And I fear that I’m too weak with hunger
To carry all the branches and boards
Needed to raise such a structure.

So I will wait for you to come home.
And I wish I could say “patiently,”
But I’m fervent with longing
And frantic with grief.

But I will do my best to carry on.
I will paint, and smoke, and work, and cry
Until you’re home again.
Then I will hold you
And hold you and hold you and hold you,
Until we are stuck as one body
And you cannot escape again.