Reluctancy

Sometimes it’s sleeping, that carries intimacy, more than anything.

I could wish for something softer but you know me. I love a tragedy. I love when it’s urgent.

She talks with wolves, without knowing what sort of beasts they are: Where have you been all my life? they ask. Where have I been all my life? she replies.

The goal is to be present in everything you do, not perfect.

We do not call ourselves brave for the little things anymore.

(oh Mary, like a God, I too take pleasure in knowing you were not all holy, that ache could undo you like a knot)

In the story, you fall in love with a girl on another planet. She’s been dead for years, but through your telescope you watch her laugh, laughing too. You wave when she, remembering her smallness, remembers the stars.

I have loved you. I did my best.

I hated him most for not having the courage to ruin us grandly. To break all the dishes and burn down the house. Instead he sunk quiet into the arms of a beautiful, weak little bird. Denied me my spilled blood, my great war, everything except his confession.