what does it feel like to be held
not by another body
not by a set of limbs, a chest, a chin
but
by another soul

what does it feel like
to see truth in another pair of eyes
instead of hidden intentions
instead of absence

what does it feel like
to hear a familiar heartbeat
resounding next to your own
reaching through skin
through bone
two rhythms
indistinguishable

what does it feel like
to write poems about
a love that exists

“Indians have a saying," she said
    from across the fire…

“Until you have heard the roar
   of the bear
     —you will not know its heart”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
From My Novel: ‘Revenge Along The War Trail’

I look at the moon and think of you.