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.