treeponce

I dreamed I forgot you but to dream you was remembering. I have words for you only, a linguistic fidelity. Cherish and anguish and fool. I look for you, I am finding out if I am brave. Last I saw you, it was the same disruptive season: robins trilling in the young flush, trees shivering pink all down the street. I thought the ache would ruin me, and maybe it did. Here I am in the beatific after still calling back to you.

Goatsong, Leila Chatti