Salovie

so grateful for the grace that kindles kindness.

The warmth you offer spirits small and scorned

well eases any chill the river brings.

How Love is shelter! —all your embers safe

from weeping rains and thieving winds of life

threatening the parts of you that glow—

and when you share those sturdy walls, that roof,

and hang a welcome on your door—my heart!

I will hold on to the pieces of you

that no longer fit.

You may have outgrown them, but

those versions of you

took root in a love so new and so true

they deserve to be kept.

Grow; lay your remnants

beneath the weight of your dreams

Through filaments of cloud, aglow—

a revelation: fly or fail.

I am no burden for the sea-born winds,

we’ve kindred breath and strivings.

With angel-like constancy, this notion soars:

to save at least three lives today—your words profound, your touch, a balm.

At the freckles on your arm;

Will you let me linger on my masterpiece?

I know you’re too free to stay still,

Limbs too long to lock down;

I only want this small gift, this gem of a memory,

Your colors and shapes sharp for a while.

It’s just that, you’re the blaze I reach toward

To kill the chill, warm my bones, bring my blood

Back to life. You mesmerize, seize my gaze.

As a breeze that seems to crave the campfire,

I blend the wind with petal-soft words and

Send it your way: not to extinguish,

Sheathed in morning’s chorus,

Fox skirts the field, lithe in the fog.

Paws slow and he pauses,

Peers—

Sees me, seeing him—

And rushes to shelter

back under the beech boughs.

I stand, stunned still,

Hawkweed under feet:

I’m stepping on sunsets

and my whole long life to give it,

I’d give it to you today.

A hasty, precious choice,

but you should know that

my perfect joy

is soft, blue,

close to

and wave me over;

I’m the grinning fool

who takes your hand.

I wish I could dance

with you forever;

Your quiet smile

but you’re made of midnight things—

indigo and fangs,

a vanishing soul—

and night-graced heroes

know how to lift the lonely:

swing your heart-led sword of hope

Hesitancy slows her steps.

To swim or to climb?

To dive or to reach?

The mountain intimidates:

A looming ascent,

Steep to the summit,

But at least she can see it.

The sea calls louder,

Darker and hungry,

With depths unknown, but, perhaps—

budding and bursting and breathing,

new growth on the love line,

bright lime like fresh spring pine

another: green, begrudgingly,

waiting out a drought,

faded sage and from the shade

We watched hit the rocks and die?

Wildfire conditions

Are never the ideal time

Mired in love, and wary—

Nightmares hunt a tired head

Hound the tower, haunt the bed,

Stalk the peak,

Provoke the flurry,

Hurry the fall,

Blur truth and worry.

Heights to climb in midnight mind,

I woke with you when worms were fresh,

and bounced through dewy grass,

held world and wind at wingtips:

I’ll sing it for hours

Through wearying throat

Till every surface

Holds a lullaby note

Each bit of air rings

With an echo of song

That will linger in dreams

long deprived, my skin weeps for vitamin D.

I stick to the black mesh beneath us,

suspended over too-long grass

and the bugs that thrive there.

The clouds are cirrus—my favorite kind,

though they aren’t enough to ease our eyes,

squinted straight up at bright blue

and leaf-shine. You close yours.

The breeze carries a shiver;

my damp shirt becomes a cold compress.

I draw your sticky body closer as

the field below us whispers.

Someday this moment won’t exist

winter gray

snow white

cold quiet