A Cargo of Green Hearts
the ocean serenades. I forget that I am a tired shirt.
there are constellations on the bottom of the sea.
all of my shipwrecks replaced by these sensitive waves.
someone will have to remind me I have brown eyes.
that my hands have ten fingers. is this the flavor of my skin.
is this what tenderness left on my starboard.
someone seals a kiss in a wine bottle. throws it out.
the whales sing so prettily I could die of such doorbells.
reminds me: I have this memory of you. touching my face.
and speaking to me such long syllables.
during the night it is my only star. you, that thought.
the gloss of kelp is the glide of your tongue.
the roses that grow on the beach cannot live without salt.
don't say it isn't so, that love is easy. I am tired of short-cuts.
their thorns hurt like lightning. it awakens me.
sunrise, even here is not enough.
I am touching you in a memory. that is all memory is.
the freckles on your jaw.
how your eyes row out and drop like the moon.
I will not cooperate with the death of any heart.
only a woman like you could understand.
if you stayed. your pulse, an old sorrow.
you've been listening to the whales so long.
their words for harpoon. the furrows on your brow.
I told you, my kisses were invented for this.
the wind has always been blowing this way.
the whole world's driftwood is ours.
a thought: in thinking of you I am not lost anymore.
funny after all this time. home is everywhere you are.
we could just drift and find it.
an embrace, yes, that, and so much more.
I believe anything is true. that love can breathe water.
that love can walk on it.
maybe I will wake
sideways in my bed
and maybe leave the house
sideways and move
sideways off the map to a
all this time I have
only seen from the corner
of an eye but
for this madness I would
believe it were true
a whole new map
there at the end of
the world with strange light
always sunset or sunrise
and if I close my eyes
I can still pretend
you are leaving
or better yet
you are arriving
and like I, think
this strange place
on the edge of
everything is best
where the love we
have lost and the
love arriving are
precious and short as
sometimes in the morning
the ache is heavy. the bed
too big. I have been
dreaming for so long
the night has
foreclosed on my
tenancy. if you
are capable of kissing
kiss me. the cherry
blossoms have all
fallen. the birds are
now is the time to walk
under the green trees
and whisper extendedly.
my name is right
here. these are my
eyes. they are
brown. all you have to
do is say so.
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