#poemitforward

all that is left of you is tethered to a tremor.

your absence widens, and keeps on widening until we are finally separate.

the gulf between us is a star-fed river.

the gulf between us is a light-starved chasm.

I watch you convulse, collapse into yourself.

you, a soft nebulous shadow that grows warm and bright, incandescent, from a seed.

so quiet. so very quiet.

you spin away in the vacuum of space. pulse light. scintillate morse code answers.

i hear the silence.

i hear everything you want to say.

*

The weight of it all

Has dropped to the floor

Like gravity

*

And although

the heart feels

sore

*

I feel

light

as a feather

*

That has let go

of the need

To hold on

*

And is ready

To drift

With the wind of change

*

That has taken

A long time

Coming

*

And I breathe for 4

And hold for 4

And exhale for 8

*

And I feel a peace

Where there was

grief

*

And joy

And hope

Where there was fear.

*

And I know

What it feels like to have

Closure

*

I've been diagnosed with a sore lump in my throat a homesickness, a lovesickness.

As the long summer days melt— I still dream of the fading wings of cicadas clinging to the boughs, seeking recognition.

But first, first, first, first— love me. For this month, I gave seventeen years Snouting through the darkness—

enrobed in that second skin [hot and close] of silence, but for the urgent clutch and scramble for Longing.

The city nights will fall quiet again as wrinkled shells drop from the branches in straight lines— are these seed pods? or dead cicadas.

We've been convinced somehow to mature in isolation. To grow alone, sing in droves, die in droves. After seventeen years—

I think I've come to terms with the fact that there will always be a ribbon of loneliness running through who I am.

Seated among friends, crying with laughter, I catch myself balancing grief—the weight

that bends the spine, with sturdy celebration. I've been coiling, writhing tight to survive the lengthening nights. The Dream is a guiltless spring.

When is it time? to wriggle out underfoot, depart the frigid dirt-womb and learn lightness. The cicadas sift the loam— knowing what they know.

It is August.

My life is going to change. I feel it.

But just knowing,

you exist is enough,

I can wait,

Minutes, days, lifetimes,

I know I will see you again,

What is meant to be,

Will be,

You and me are a certainty,

That exists beyond everything,

Just knowing you breathe,

I feel it in the breeze,

In the stars that shine above,

The light of your eyes,

To find you everywhere,

Makes the wait not so long,

My heart is painted with your colors,

and priceless memories fly inside,

Every word you uttered sustains me,

While here I wait,

For you to come again.

“i set my deadfall hands on fire — swallow the ashes,” i wrote and laughed as these words turned black with rot

in two months,

i am no longer inside the skin burning away vividly at the feet of the sun god. i am not a body at the crematorium with matchstick-fingers and gasoline; my bones are whole, pure, pearly, quiet white.

i have been holding my breath, waiting for the smoke to clear without choking. i no longer want to write about the flames and the embers and live-coal hearts; i put my poems down, my cigarettes and pitchfork and step into a gentler flare, and stick my tongue out to lick the sunbeams — they’re warm against my taste buds, like honeyed milk and hibiscus stews.

i am four years old once more, sleeping soundly on my mother’s lap.

No one hears. I am the last man on earth. I kick the can down the road, or, I try too -- It's so old it crumbles into soft rusted ash. And I liked these shoes, too.

LOVE ME

I scream, to no one in particular. The Stars roll their eyes, I think -- who can blame them -- everything interesting I write down, because its not for them to see -- all they get is to hear is me scream. Voice echoes off the rubble into the heavens.

ALONE!

Less a statement, more a declaration. The sun laughs as he burns my skin -- he's not being mean, he just want to see how red that I can get. The trees have withered and offer me no shade.

WHATS THE POINT?

Eyes open.

There are people all around me. My voice rings loud in my ears. My lips are sealed.

Another full moon has arisen and faded as it did while I held you and you melted deeper into me as I became lost in you. There will be another time, another place, another season shall change, and even with the phases of the moon my love and desire for you shall remain the same.