9/30/2016

that I am dying is no surprise;
the tide came in this
morning but never meant to stay
                time tips even the reaching trees
the trusty sky rescinds its blue 
pillows to make way for falling birds
like a prankster yanking out a chair. 
some people save for retirement but
I'll die poor having banked only
kisses, swallowed them like
watermelon seeds.
              how warm they've felt 
in the leaning fall nights
but now it's time to send them away 
in letters sealed with the tip 
of a tongue. it's like turning a wallet 
upside down. the entire attached
world thinks you're mad.
             in memory you are glowing 
in the sunset off the coast of Burgeo
the berries never ran out that day
we were so full we tossed the rest
into the sea. but I could
never get enough of your
face. such small food, so rare
geologically speaking. 
          when everything is so full
years later it feels just as good 
to be hungry, starving a little 
for your touch. it's tragic how 
in dying we learn the reason 
why we are not permitted 
to live forever:
        we waste so much,
we have not learned how
to clean our plates.