Discretionary Love

As time gnaws on my bones, and I stand hunched and bow-legged under the weight of my scars, I look not to the heavens for

You hold my love like a bird  With a broken wing  You nurse what feels like  A forever alteration  And fix me a splint — 

As I stare from a distance, I remember the chart of your body. I am a shell of loss, and I listen for the call

smelled you out, sensed your heat, clung to you those long 36 hours, feeding off your life, drinking you in. I wonder if my love

you were home to me for so long until you just became someone walking around at night in the rain showing up one last time

Proskelyte¹ I see your thighs, the dusky patch between, dark fires ignited, promising. I see your ankles, alabaster white and beautiful, pressed against me, stroking.

I have nothing to give you, and nothing on a piece of paper will help except that having lost everything, you have less than nothing,

Before my first date with my husband, I stood him up twice; why he still came that Friday, honestly I’ll never know. I cry once

We stare at each other with the viscosity of honey, yellow against the warmth of a star. Sticky like the clouds you pluck, sticking them

There is no time in her life for dreams and the first sparrow of the day never sings at her window.   She rises swiftly

You pull your genuine leather belt from the door handle, saunter towards me splayed across the mattress with that grin that wets. Bind it around

Let not come a day When we agree only In shared hatred. For I have seen people perish With vitals running, Smothered by necklaces And

We swore young love would never die; we’d cherish one another ever more; yet, every season has its longing, and summer’s truly autumn dawning. Now