Honey sick and sweet in your hair
as the morning sun does back-flips off your golden flax strands
and I can watch the lightening dance in your palms
when they trace the window panes
pretty pictures in a foggy field
and a flurry of white beyond the decorated glass.
Frosty eyes, they wrote songs about
the gap between your sentences.
He made a movie around the
crease in your forehead
when you asked me
if I ever jumped off a building
if I would face the sky or the pavement below
and that was when I knew you were a force of nature
and a love
and a death
and the incarnation of a stable soul.
So I follow you to the greatest darkness these
****** eyes of mine have ever been blinded by
and I trust that my hand in yours
will find it safely
to the other side of nowhere.