Younger me would be so proud
And loud
And rejoicing
And voicing all her wins
Younger me would scream from roof tops
And climb the highest mountains
Younger me would be a force
Take every road and every course
Because she would know that I have her and she has me and I am her and I won’t let her fall
Younger me would love so hard and be so far ahead and never be in bed
Younger me would love this life and be here without a fight
Younger me is happy now
Younger me is alive and well

You broke my heart.
I searched for clover blooms
from which to weave chains
and crowns for the both of us.
But you with your urban sensibilities
Kept the lawn mowed too often.  You,
Hobby-like in your ankle-length socks
Bermuda tangoed, with your mower.
I eventually came under its blades.

Hear the steps?
Past the curfew - two feet, counting stairs,
of a drunk man, who's stiffness is eerie.
It's the sound of me climbing up to my place
where there's no one to be doing the hearing.

Hear the jingle?
It's the finger in search of a key,
of a man who's had not enough spirit.
Would my loneliness also abandon me,
if I managed to fall in love with it?

when people are in love
they often say
they simply fell
tripped over their own two feet
face forward
and into the arms of their beloved

i did more than simply fall
onto the ground of your love

you, for me
were an ocean
and i dived
headfirst
roughly
harshly
almost painfully
into the waters of “you”

i knew i could not swim
but i did so anyway
i was drowning
entangled in you
surrounded by this being of “you”
engulfed in this feeling of “you”

and i did not know what came over me
but i let myself drown
i did not try to swim back up
because if i went back to land,
releasing myself from your grasp
that would mean losing the feeling of “you”

and after
submerging into the depth
the love
the passion
of “you”

how could i ever leave?

I don’t believe in God,
but you made me pray to Aphrodite,
whisper to Venus,
call out to Rati in the dark.
Tell me-who else is left?

Your God forbids it, doesn’t He?
But I would rewrite His laws,
tear down His heavens,
if it meant I could have you.

What must I do?
Tell me-what offering is enough?
Is there a ritual beyond bowing at dawn,
a sacrifice beyond surrender?

Or is He simply deaf?
Does He turn away because He knows
He could never love you
the way I do?

If you return,
do not knock,
the door has memorized your hands.

If you leave,
do not turn back,
the wind carries only forward.