For every poem I write,
every line
who has sacrificed their being
for my meaning…
I am full of gratitude.
March 10, 2018
For every poem I write,
every line
who has sacrificed their being
for my meaning…
I am full of gratitude.
March 10, 2018
my darling,
sleeping in this bed,
waiting until
there’s only now
and no tomorrow;
each cell
a masterpiece
of sound and I
celebrate
the beauty
that has come
into my life.
Slowly, sun lifts
from eyebrow
to eyebrow,
yawns across the sky
and grants us a grin–
now tell me again
of this thing called love?
I hear you
in the night,
just as gentle
and unafraid
as you are
in the morning–
sun shining,
blades of grass
shooting upwards,
following my mind’s eye
as I send
a word of thanks
to whatever god
there is for sending
you to me.
How many steps
were taken,
books read,
conversations had
until you reached
my lips?
How many times
did we scream,
“When?”
before I could
tell you,
“Now”?
It is always now.
It is always now
that I will love
your midnight kisses,
blush as you name
your reasons
for loving me;
now is the time
I love you
and the tongue
you use to speak,
words of rise
and triumph
and resistance
and awe.
Now is a time
for no time,
for no thing,
except our cells
lighting up,
greeting each other,
saying,
“Hello, again…”
March 8, 2018