Poem 52

for W who will be mine in four days

It’s the earth that comes up between these weeds
and feeds the trees, please, return just as you left:
Enamored. When you break and I’m broken
the weight of this accidental continental
drift pulls me away from myself and into
tremors. Truncate all the whisper-words
That meant more than sexual tension, though exotic.
When finally we came together and forgot misfortune
I found what innocence left in me to grow as seeds
or sprout like weeds: dancing infantile about the trees.
It was you all along promising happiness from sorrow
making wax candles of my worries, dip after dip…
When the seasons come together and reminisce of this
you and I will devour the sky winking of orbs and travelers.
–ECW
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