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
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
“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
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
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
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
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
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
you shoved a
load of bread
and a few packets
of salt
on my counter
this is what my people
do
do you know the apartment
with the view of a brick wall
where i woke up to rain
bouncing off of the metal
pole snaking along the
building
counting your
dreams of
her
in hindsight
you were probably
just a lighthouse
in the middle of
my ocean heart
though
you should know
a lot of seafaring
hopefuls died
while we had
our love affair
