Wednesday, February 16

iris will sing to us for a while

give me your advice,
lord. every time i drive
over that
bridge - a city cramped together,
i question- say yes
or no- follow the heart
or let it go

fragile in my arms, a bone-doily,
a silver shell
hair like paths of a river, cross
and part
cheek like the pale moon
the rhythmic heart

so salvaged
tinkered-with, bolted back together again,
become what it is, for better
or for worse-
the natural state obscured
if not reversed

i will love you eyes-closed
iris will sing to us for a while
so smile in your sleep;
at least try to imagine you are the moon to me.
i will love you eyes-open, but see nothing
i will love you with my hands behind my back
i will write you poems and promise you will never know i wrote to you.

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