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Love.

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mister black

i write you love letters

attach them to the

steam birds

i watched fly from

the window in the

wake of your shower

the love letters don’t make it

all the way to the battlefield

but your birds of intimacy

always answer to my

whistle

counting to ten (again)

you don’t have to be a bird

bird bird bird

(no four)

really don’t listen to me

when i tell you over the

kitchen sink

about how your tiny hands

seemed to want to snap off

so they could fly away home

or the way you can scream

so that everything vibrates

until it learns to behave again

you don’t have to be of

porcelain bones

to be

lark

bird bones redux

it could be the

rest of our lives

that we are circling

that soft cave

i built from my

own rib cage

moss from

my own heart

there all of the

noise hovers outside

insect fury

inside we are honey

against one another

you will insist

that you were

maple syrup

when you read this

years from now

by then my hunt

will be over

yours to

begin

the day you

finally

train the bees

akimbo

i caught a fish

the fish was gold

shiny fins making

clacking sounds against

its body

i asked the fish

what does freedom mean

the fish arched itself

(wadded up tinfoil)

and looked me in

the

eyes

i opened my

mouth to ask

again

i swallowed a fish

the fish was gold

ten years ago you

“he used to say

i was his sun”

you told me

curled up on

my blue couch

another petulant

day

“his sun?”

some fools

think they

love fire

only to drop it

as soon as they

feel a little

heat

bees in the yard again

those who love you

would not seek to

tame you

if you let them

feed from your kills

bathe in

your stories of

you and the moon

the rippling

of the lake at night

where you watched

a lover show off

the winter you

spent without

another living

creature

but most importantly

if you fall in love

with a mighty

oak tree

let them know

you

hunt for

them

too

tender trap

i am more funny

when i am alone

she said

in response to

i love you

it was awkward

for as long as

eternity and

the moon

are still married

moments like this

are when you realize

sometimes you

fall in love with

a ghost

wife

along the berry path

in my dream you

left for good

though we searched

it wasn’t until

the chimes got so

sickening in my ears

that i was brave enough

to follow them

there you were

the earth rooting you

your eyes perpetual

to the center

of terra firm

hands over your ears

though i whispered

all my most ornate

incantations

it could be never

that the vines make

their way into

your rib cage

this thing grips

thinking on

all of the

fireflies i named

after constellations

while you were

in space

you once told me

your feet were meant

to be submerged in salt water

your guts came only

when the salmon

fought for home

but your head

belongs to the wind

so naturally i

never asked

about your

heart

because you

never said

you had

one

slow dance

how many times

did you have to

drink whiskey

to remember that

my heart is

so ripe on

the vine

how many midnight

ravens did i send

to your windowsill

how many

forget-me-nots

grew in the wake

of your north feet

that summer

the trees went

to war