You say it so casually
"Mine."
As though by saying it
Then it is meant to be
You repeated it when I
Denied
For I fully know you are not
"Mine."
Our history forbids it
All sources say against it
How could we begin again
With everything left so unsaid
You still hurt
And still seek others
Then describe what you want
It's me
And you know it
And still want it
And want it to not be me
I'd say go **** yourself
But I wouldn't really mean it
In spite of your stupidity
And avowed non-commitment
I still love you
I'm willing to let you hurt me
Because when you leave
I want you to see this time
That under no circumstances
Did you tell the truth
When you said
"Mine."

Oh this is a dangerous game
Like playing chicken
with hand grenades
All you have to do is get close

So dangerous that there is a thrill
Hanging by fingertips
that are starting to chill
One slip and you're a goner

I want to memorize the way you
didn't show up

now i'll try
but only because you
asked so nicely

It springs from teachers giving
Out compliments like
Communion crackers at a
Vegas church,
Gold-starred papers with
Smiley face stickers and
No trace of
Criticism beyond “work on
Punctuation.”

It’s absurd.
For years we’re treated like
Endangered worms,
Told that we’re special but
Kept in closed boxes,
Eventually, spun into
Thick grey silk, stitched into the cloth
Wherever it’s wearing.

I used to wait all year to
Hear the small clicks as
Tiny rocks from
Our garden scratched
My window.

Stumbling out of bed, I
Sped out to
Race the sunrise.

I remember how the morning felt in the field as
The bluebirds looked on, curious. It
Was wild and I knew
What being a man
Meant when
I scared off a big dog one day that
Made some of the girls scream.

We always went to work without words, when
We got to the clearing,
Surround by the silence of the
Dew-drenched morning, almost unable to
Wait for the berries we knew would be so, so
Sweet.