When the “Best” Comes Pt. 1

It will be something simple like:
we will dance
in the kitchen,
and I’ll be cooking something edible.
And you will hold me from behind
still swaying to the music playing off
of whatever medium it comes through.
Our shoes will be kicked off
and the table will be set
and there will be a vase full of
lily of the valleys or hydrangeas
or peonies
and from the window,
light will stream in.
I will sit across from you
in our dining room,
we will join hands and
thank God for the food,
for this life,
for everything that aligned
just the way He wanted it, too.

Fair Exchange 

A boy
I have not spoken to
in three years
pulls me aside to tell me
I deserve better.

My sister calls this
an act of God,
that sometimes someone has to speak
the truth because I know it,
but don’t believe it myself.
But this time,
I agree with her.

Think it’s funny
how someone who used to beg me
for things below the belt,
doesn’t know how he’s interceding
for the Holiest of holies.

Want to tell him,
I see it, too,
how God’s purposely
protecting me.

Want to apologize
for clearing out my backseat.

Want to cry out
the cliched “hallelujah”;
shed tears on the drive home,
and thank Him for his mercy.

Praise Him
that it’s been over a month
and these lips have been
consistently denied the opportunity
to learn the contours of
another no-good-for-me
some body.

On Days like Today 

Tell her:
I will hold you
until the sun falls out of the sky.
I know your soul
is only comfortable
in the darkness and I am
okay with perpetual night.

I will love you
even if we don’t make light.
I will love you
even if I can’t see the sparks

I will love you
in the endless blackness
that I’m willing to risk
for just a moment
where your life and mine

I will love you
even if it means I can only parade you
under moon shine.

Sunlight Sedation

It is the way
you kissed my palms
like they had been holding
all of your oxygen
for the last two months;
pulling up the hem of my T-shirt
and reminding my stomach
with your mouth
how worthy it is
of worship,
of mercy.

You will never be
a new religion to me:
but rather a louder way to love.
You will be my reminder
of daily grace.

Because as your lips met my skin,
my eyes were wrinkling themselves
into two old maids
laughing in rockers
on the front porch of
their country house in the summer.
Two windows
squinted like they were staring
at the sun.,
not caring if they were blinded
in happiness.

Like love never left;
like the splinters of hurt and
regret remained in my heart
only so
when the time was right,
I could re-make them into a door jam.

It’s like saying your name,
missing how much
my lips
pursed at the “shh”,
and now, not wanting
to be quiet
about this.

Bless this Reptilian Skin

“In seven years,
 you will not exist on my body.
Bless this reptilian skin.
Bless each ash stuck
to the feathers of this woman.

I will not slander your name,
but in seven years time
someone will shake me
of the phrases 
you caged me in.
In seven years time,
I will have said my own name
so many times,
that I won’t remember the way
your mouth formed around it.

In seven years time,
I will forgive my nakedness.
In seven years time,
the only thing worthy
of being near my lips
will be Chapstick.

In seven years time,
you will no longer
on this skin.
In seven years time,
through God’s grace,
I will be my own

Modern Magi

I’m ready for the thunder,
I learned that there can be beauty
in the quaking of the earth;
just because the sky trembles
doesn’t mean it will fall down.

And if it did,
our bones would be crushed
into fairy dust
and whoever survived would build from a world
coated in magic.

Maybe there’d be peace then.
Maybe some things would make more sense like:

driving home I saw a car
missing one headlight,
completely smashed out of socket
on the drivers side,
save for a bulb.
This bulb that was on
and shining with all its might.
Wherever they were going,
they still had light.

When the sky cracks in half,
I realize now stitching can also
come in streaks that terrify.

I am no longer a child,
hiding under covers
when the rain comes down.
I’m the windshield wiper
on a car sans one headlight,
swishing water out of line of sight.
Helping driver get to destination,
marveling at the shaking
waiting for the comet tail of lightning,
and trailing the wings of the faeries,
shaking off dust as they fly by.