My love!

i have held you so long

these nights in my dreams

insisting all things are possible

determined to manifest 

however thick the night nothing envelops the skyline

and days then months tick by

drawing from the opacity of our options 

imagining

running to, consuming you 

ravenous

legs like tentacles

pulling, hands linked

into my bed

for an endless, melted exhale

my spine softening against your breath

between my shoulder blades

and gently filling

my body

quite literally

with everything I want

spectacularly,

i cut a green path without

and about you

in which my outstretched fingers and tired bones

unrequited

do not wither from drought

or retreat from unwelcome sneers

but rather volunteer

unguarded, independent

perhaps even look for trouble

beg for downpours that stun the skin and flush the toxins

trust that light follows eventually

it is not obedient 

no schoolgirl hope for signed permission slips

or awkward fumblings

a crocus, crowned
rightness assured

where once was desolation

awake in a miracle
knowing love that renders time irrelevant

succor wraps my ankles in green

and the stars are crystalline

from here

you 

have chosen low risk investment

in a life less controversial

perhaps intentionally

where there are no true guest rooms 

or multidimensional experiences

for us pursue in disco colors

no sun-dappled trails to lope down, arms linked 

glances which speak paragraphs

to share anymore

i stake my claim

a traveler in this renewal of purpose

licensed, registered

to grasp another with such intent and honor

where my feet find the sand

near the wood stove, curtains thrown back to reveal dawn

listening for the crackle of air escaping cut cedar

if no longer hopeful you’ll burst in with an overflowing suitcase

and collapse into my arms weary, relieved, 

hungry for only the way i cook

longing for only the way i talk

lifted by only the way i move through the world

desperate to belong to me

and our eyes meet like polar ends

educating future generations on how it’s done to love furiously

and with ribboned joy

so happily knotted years later one cannot find the ends

or know where we began

it is
permanent, regardless,

still and forever mine.

---

My love was created as a spoken poem, but is to me like a traveling vine that blooms brilliantly at the end of the piece. Someday this will be a choreographed piece, or perhaps a painting.