2010
09.04
09.04
I want to be conjoined,
shackled together.
You say, “Don’t be silly.”
But it’s happened before,
I’ve seen it.
Better people than me have lost love,
had it stripped away,
watched it yellow to the point of dust.
Now I wake to all of your dark depths,
your hollows and bottoms plumped,
a sharp, stringent scent nearby,
something resembling bark dust perhaps,
warning me to be wary.
Yet when you are sleeping
and your heavy breath washes down my bare back,
it feels as though my life could still be redeemable,
like an unused stamp, a coupon or
a lost ring
one might find while packing.
So sling your arrows, go ahead, it’s fine.
I wasn’t kidding when I said
I would die for you.