5.15.19: vows

remembering you

is the hot-bellied glow of

coffee at sunrise

//

remembering you

is a weighted blanket while

rain batters the glass

//

remembering you

wakes me with a start in the

middle of the day

//

remembering you

does not ask for permission

it cannot be taught

//

remembering you

is not for the faint of heart

it takes prisoners

//

remembering you

has two sets of teeth pointing

in both directions

//

remembering you

rings my body like a tree

slicing prettily

//

remembering you

might make me beautiful if

I spend time with it

//

remembering you

is a game I play, counting

the ships in the fog

//

remembering you

holds space for an ocean where

dew is on the grass

//

remembering you

is forgetting, with fingers

crossed behind my back

//

remembering you

looks like holiness; virtue

in passivity

//

remembering you

ends in the attic, dusting

off a fairy tale