there is a weight in my chest
that doesn’t belong to gravity
it’s an unborn animal
it takes its time counting my ribs
waiting to hurl me back into the flame
like the skin that remembers its breath
like a scar that still feels the teeth of pain
and the skin has a memory older than my mother
the line between a passing thought and
the surrender may begin to fade
love is the cherry season
love, I see now, is the unasked for
ripening of the cherry
it doesn’t care if
it leaves its sweetness on my tongue
it just throws itself right into
the ***** mouth of the world
it does not read the calendar or
reasonable explanations
it simply waits
it sits at the edge of my awareness
knowing that sooner or later
the afternoon will grow still
you think you hold the reins of your own blood
you think you’re in control
but look how the air splits in two and
love and death look like two sisters
wearing red