I.
I can see your face now.
been staring straight at
the sun now your smile
is left on the inside of my
eyelids.
II.
We have this little baby bird
and it seems only natural we’d worry
whether she’ll be able to fly
whether she’ll be able to touch
the sky
but if we look closely
we notice
the sky is within her eyes
the sky is reflected under lids
that have just opened
for the first time
if we look closely
we notice that her world
both infinitely complex
and so very simple
has a sort of completeness
something came alive
that was not there before
when you look at her
you can see that the heart beats
in the whole of the body.
III.
There’s this buoyancy
an urge to cry out,
move, a feeling of
expansion, joy,
bubbling, and change.
IV.
Springtime we move
with the rest of the
world.
V.
Its too bright, I can’t
look straight at it
VI.
Life is not the same now.
It isn’t.
VII.
Woke up from a nap
with your notes imprinted
on my mind, in my body
scared because it’s deeper
each time
But what of all the things left to say?
too much was said already
is it enough to know this is love?
Head rested under your knee I wrap
myself around you and seep deeply
I can tell you what it feels like
or I can kiss you
I can tease you but I also think you know
what I know, your face a symphony
of lovemaking
I go to war with the nothing
and the everything that’s ok
at the same time
There never was a manual on feeling
I don’t care what you do
I love you, simply.
VIII.
I bike past bridges
and Gold Medal Flour
blue lights litter the Mississippi waters
it’s just past the midnight hour, but the birds
are already singing
I don’t need to try and listen, my whole heart breathes
their song of understanding
my heart breaths, free.
IX.
I feel healed and whole.
X.
I can let you fly
I can let you fly away
I can even let you fly away forever
But if you come back
I know we’d soar.
XI.
It is night
and I find myself alone
on Lake Street
with no intention of going home
wanting to tell him
wanting to be witnessed
wanting to give up on all
wanting to fight for all
so what if I sent you poetry
there’s something about the distance
that feels unwieldy
but what of the attachment
in the first place?
we are so many different people
it is heartbreaking
so is this café
utterly devoid of personality
sometimes I want to scream
…
for leaving.
XII.
Cracking thin sheets of ice
during our first walk, clutching
each other’s arms
spinning in the caves, the creek
the lofted bed and the glow-in-the-dark stars
the fried eggs
your face when you play guitar
biking the city, the suburbs, the dark
the burning candles, the bridges
the blue couch at the bookstore
the neon blanket
getting tipsy at
Passover.
Rolling down the hill
and you kissing me under the tree
it was in between seasons
there was still snow
there were leaves.
XIII.
Out of the corner of my eye
you took me by surprise
and now I’m left here
my strings untied
We took the sky in our hands
we changed the color of the moon
we took a path we did not know
let go of any grip, where it would go
You rode to the Eastern shore
said you didn’t know
what you were ridin’ for
I said ok, wouldn’t want you
to stay, anymore
just for me
The only direction was apart
I uncurled my claw
from inside your hand
but your chords still clung
at my heart
And I couldn’t seem to put
myself back together again
the only direction
apart
This is still a love poem
all poems are
is the sky the same there
as where we come from?
I get up with the sun
and hope that it will follow you
home.