I read you
like a book I can't put down.
I soak you in
like black ink on a page.
Please, just another drop?
You slam me closed.
You can sip every drop of me,
if you want me.
Do you want me?
Sorry, I get carried away,
you know me.
Do you know me?
It’s time to cut the strings of you, I think.
I get tangled up and I’m tired now.
Just let me rest for a minute,
to ease my eyes and
stop my spinning mind.
But then I’ll get to cutting.
I can’t wait for my first breath.
I'd like to cut my heart open
to take you out
to see you one more time
You ache in me
like a flu shot arm
Driving home this morning
I join the rolling green hills of the country,
we yawn ourself awake
and push the dew out of our eyes.
Passing the barns and black fences,
I dream a new life for myself here.
A horsehair life,
long and coarse.
In the spring, I'd push seeds into the moist soil
and cross my fingers.
In the fall, I could lose myself in the stalks of gold,
if I wanted to.
I could tear up my calendar,
write a new one on upside-down tobacco
and leafy greens and the sun.
I know I'd be stronger, too.
I'd grow on bales of hay, lifted high,
and on pine wood, axed in two.
But my eyes are on the lines on the road
and I follow them on.
I think about you at the oddest times
which is to say, all the time.
When my eyes are open
and when they are closed,
my mind finds you, all the same.
When I’m walking up the stairs
or down them, it’s you I’m approaching.
In the morning when I stretch my legs
and at night when my arms search
it’s you they’re after.
It’s you in the space between too,
In the dreams I cannot choose.
In a sense, I can never choose.