on the way to fort cilluffo

i will wrap me in you
and forget to hate my ribs
enjoy my bad jokes
taste wedding cake i've
long since digested;
the only thing outside
is street lamp light
passing quicker and quicker
until we crash
into darkness, where
the only thing outside is star light
standing heavenly still;
it is so chilly on this side of love
and my coat is so thin.

wine charm

what would you say
if i could imagine the first trout
you ever help me catch
the way we break my spirit
by cooking it perfectly
and take each other to bed
our love lit only by the fire
our hands entwined as only lovers can
a future memory
stretched thin across our borders
as creases settle at the corners of our eyes;
yours first, of course
but you do not realize
it is only from laughing
at symbolic trout
and questions never asked.

black point

half of me is the ocean
hugging a cement-flattened jetty
where little boys inside of their skins
beg the cold sun to sing them out to sea;
where they ask bits of salt and sand
to cling to their hairs and ankles
so that i can go with them
wherever they go
hugging them like a jetty
and smelling of a journey in reverse
calling them back to a place
once called home;
now i, little child
shiver, ask the same of myself, my better half.
"i lost many futures," i say from the inside of my skin,
holding the tide at bay
both halves of me hugging the jetty
too afraid of my own current
to wash the grit from my hair
"i lost many futures," i say again
in case i didn't hear
the first time around
"we all did," i echo back
and press my weight into the jetty once more.

unlike

unlike love
unlike a bed of snow
unlike breaking leaves
unlike a newborn fawn
unlike summer gardens
unlike morning prayer
unlike a solid lunch
unlike waking up
unlike antidepressants
unlike silent "hellos"
unlike crying goodbyes
unlike watching people go
unlike distance
unlike anything
at all
but do not,
i beg you please
do not
unlike us

we were almost neighbors

we were almost neighbors
you and i
cradled in gauze
of the same spider's web
not waiting, exactly
but knowing:
time
will not wait for us
it will cast us indiscriminately
like pollen
or dandelion seeds
and we will be far, far apart
and we will be eaten by different spiders
on different webs

you, beautiful

you
shame at having wanted
and not gotten, expected snow
but greeted with rain;
it has been snowing three days now
and though i long for cold
i seem only to feel shame
at having wanted
and not gotten, expected
a tickle of joy in the heart
of my heart
but greeted with a nighttime tremor
an echo of delirious inevitability;
shame, at having wanted
and not gotten, expected beauty
but greeted with
humanity.

darling

darling, sing me to sleep
i am caught
between
wet sidewalk, an open window
my overactive radiator
the ache
of saying calmly
"goodbye"
to so many futures,
so torn from
the simple peace of
loving freely
no: being free to love
wrenched from that
by apoplectic winter
storming ceaselessly
crying
mercilessly
i am stuck awake
floating between futures
begging for your song
to call me
down.

newbury street

it was greying in boston
and us, too, greying
we and the sky, the clouds and us
the water not yet decided
between crystal and calm
and me, i, wondering if you remember
the names of all of your lovers and
if you do, do you remember
the feeling of their lips upon yours
or do you find that these things fade
turn grey, all old, all gone;
we were greying in boston-town
hoping for a glimpse of spring blue
fall yellow, summer green
winter white, even, when water stops
being wet and starts being dust
but hope is only sadness in denial;
grey is only sadness in disguise.