A Cargo of Green Hearts
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
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
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.
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