give

i can give
up dreams
but i can't stop
giving
love.

hope

this time it’s different

this time

I have the infinite
security of your arms

falls will

echo how

protected

I am

pressed but safe

when 

I ache

I’ll press deeper

into the embrace

of grace

the exhibition

the certain charm

of looking out windows

on the top floor
during algebra

childhood

bubbles in milk
hats with ear-flaps
and always being
the dance champ

little cues

hey,

someone fix that door

at work

that flings open from the

unmanageable wind.

I guess I’m not doing

well

I guess I might be

angry

grow

I could be

stained with anger

crawling into a comfortable bitterness

into a quilt

hibernating until the heat

of summer

forces me out

but tear me wide open

I will feel the penetrating ache of missing

you

letting time pass slowly

without resentment

without forgetting our dreams:

painted tire swings on every tree of the cemetery

and

eating maple pecan granola in our morning bowls

collaging together with tea, snow falling under streetlights

I will cry most days, maybe

but this, this

this throbbing flow of hope

this rawness creating innocence

a continual newness

is better than being immobilized

frustrated

so grow

within me

light

push out any darkness

I’m yielded

startled

but 

ready

the pulse

light rousing eyes

water swishing

coffee’s dripping

it’s early

but never too early

to take in this breathing world

to exhale thank you 

brand new

missteps

corrected

rags

mended

rip me open

find the light

déjà vu

the weirdest feeling

praying

with a paintbrush

coffee smells

and swirling color

this is real

under a pine tree
branch arms outstretched

covering us

a zillion light bulbs:

spotlights
for our night

if this is
if this is real

i never want to sleep

4:23

as I study your face

decorated by afternoon sun

my heart expands to make room

for all this

grandma

philadelphia art museum
with you
dreams were big
as we talked about gaudí

about sitting on roofs
though i’ve given up dreams
for now
that held weight
i wish i had grabbed your hand
while i sat with you
scrunched together on that little chair

yesterday, reading wordsworth
i’m the same
really
i promise
to show you we’re still connected

i promise i yearn
even

your hands fit

wait

reflecting and noticing light

eyes

minds

being true

all

securely giving

and I’m not afraid anymore

nothing rushed

because we have the time

to search out the perfect marble

we have the time

to savor  

sweetness

reach

 i.

what

I love

about you
most

is the way you reach

reach

reach

Always.

ii.

standing there all

bundled:

a puffy coat

mittens poking half-out of full pockets

a scarf wrapped to the chin

can barely move

I realize

I feel like a child

iii.

I break.

thoughts 

days

repeat, repeat, repeat

scattered and poignant 

I'm afraid 

I'm afraid

still, still!

but gently
you calm me

a word
a whisper
a knowing 

it’ll be okay

I Admit

Seeing a jumble and making conclusions
a goofy kaleidoscope lens--a snap reflex
I admit I point and shoot your limitations like I see so
clearly

jeopardy

i suppose he was content
enough.
maybe he didn’t even think about how he felt
–why waste thoughts on that?
jeopardy was on and he was at his station,
the dinner plate resting oh his belly,
the remote to his left,
his answers always right.

honest

it is past 11
i'm sitting on
my bed
just made
somehow rumpled
you are driving, driving
talking talking
it is hard to follow
you.

being honest with myself
hurts
being honest with you
hurts
things were so orderly
and now i'm
losing my voice

please just stay on the phone
and don't be too angry
please keep talking
and i'll try to
believe

slow down

i.
every passing truck
40 at least
lit up the cold
damp highway
it was much too close,
i remember.
you said your thoughts
it was too much
too bright
a flash in my face
and i,
confused,
labeled you"self-righteous"
quickly
to protect
to understand.

ii.
teach me how to slow
to wait
to see the truth of a person
a painful stretch, reaching
but such nearness
remains.

curious

you tell me that there are things I wouldn’t want to know
impossibly dark things
I breathe to take it all in
trying to
because maybe even this vague admission is the best you can give
why even understand
what you’re
telling in hesitation?
trying me
testing my curiosity
no, maybe my limits
of acceptance, of love
I find myself asking, “what, then, is the worst thing you’ve done?”
"I don’t mean to pry,"
I falter,
"but
something in you
wants
to be free."