A Nod and a Smile

I like my cheeks
very much.

As I like everything else that comes in a box.

Of Suicide and the Great Ones

Up here

where the wind blows,

where it is just the wind and you -

the wind as the only witness -

it would be easy to be mistaken with The Girl That Was Never Seen Again.

So many stairs.

So much red haze.

And

Nothing to impede your fall.

An Attic on the Bed

Yesterday
we sipped on sweet tea
with spicy tongues -

How to long for long nights

in old, Victorian attics.

In bed

we shared stories under

a white tent of sheets.

How to long for nights

when you could speak,

a top six feet of gravel, stone, and wild grass.

---

Wherever you are. Whatever you've become.

Morning, Glory

I suddenly feel the heart turn whole.

A moment of complete happiness.

Richly simple. Simply precious.

French toast.

Coffee.

Made be you.

For me.

Nobody else gets to smell like you.

I do not get to miss anybody like I miss you.

And perhaps it becomes apparent - sometime too soon -

that this is the now you wanted, but later.

You had just started soaring through pyramids

too soon

to have your winds cut off this Spring.

And perhaps old Arab tales are wiser than your concocted truths.

You do not lie this time -

You simply wish to mold

an unwashable kabuki face.

But where will you splinter off to this time?

When the leaves that fell have regathered on ancient roots

and the sun has begun to rise higher?

Have you enough weight to lay anchor on this sand

Or will you find peace adrift, once again, under the weightless ocean?

Will those Gates of lapis lazuli reign alone?