little girl, get up.

splatting and bouncing
diamonds drip from trees
the blue eye sky watches,
charmed,
to see her lover’s breast so bedecked

and inside something bursts
into icy flames
like sunlight and sky
reflected in a diamond’s eye

they think i’m an oak;
inside i’m broiling.

my roots pick up and walk;
my face is still.

you gotta cut me open
see what’s real
before you can
love
me

it might hurt, honey

you don’t fit into words,
but one that comes to mind
is our relation,
for i am (be)held
all at peace and exploring the valleys
of the creases of your palm

find me, darling,
and chide me gently:
“stay with me,”
and i will run away a million times
to hear that sweet summons again

i would twine my fingers in yours,
gently tug and sinuously
till your eyes unwillingly were drawn to mine,
and i’d trace the backs of your hands and your cheeks
and marvel, glimmeringly
as my fingertips (be)held you,
sensing only aftertastes of
breaths breathed,
someplaces you’d been,
and i’d know what color your eyes were too.
i would let my breath catch and fall
like breezes tripping over treebranches;
i would not mind it. i would
rejoice in a discovery of you like worlds
before me, beneath me, beside me.
and when you laughed suddenly,
i would thank God for this music,
bestowed on one like mercy.

after three weeks it’s back and i
shudder and it smiles and asks,
aren’t you glad to see me?

and silently i succumb to its embrace
thinking, i thought i left you behind
long ago. it strokes my hair as i
become small in its arms because
like lolita i need this monster
i have nowhere else to go

its fingers feel like ice caressing
my spine and i shiver and it
holds me tighter to keep me warm

don’t go, we say to each other

and out of nowhere this trembling
childishness, and a desperate, consuming need to be
safe

i want a scandal

i’m bubbling over, whistling like a teapot
let on the stove too long and i am trilling
(this is ridiculous; who’s ever this happy?)
and i am thrilled – because it’s morning and i’m
steeped in light and love all joyfulsingsongy
like steam and boiling points in the morning
when earl grey is floating and springtime-england
is streaming through the water to my tastebuds,
except this time i am the water,
hardly able to contain myself and
pippopping the lid off the pot
in a madrush struggle to see the dawn,
to see who will be made glad today.

a thousand poems ago i was a child
sacred, protected, desired
because once upon a time i was loved
i intoxicated him and his i love yous made me
burn: cheeks heart stomach / from the inside out
i was consumed and he was consumed:
the kind of tragedy that makes you want to live it
and experience riproaring exhilarating shocking
death.
we lived to burn.

and i told him about God and heaven
and he told me about the beauty of earth
we shared these solemn secrets like dawn and dusk
and falling apart and how to use jagged glass to make
love

it was like a symphony when we were
young and
lovely

like fireworks, like paper,
we burned,
discovering flames for the first time
and shimmering as we
like sparks
danced ballet and died.

—-

(title from a. mcintire)

because a month ago when you were talking i wanted to
hold you close and lullaby you into wakefulness
so you’d see your daddy pacing the floors like i did

and now you’re awake and running
and his arms are open wide, waiting
for your tall form to collapse like a child’s
crumpling into folds of sinew between his hands
so you’ll be safe and warm
and this homecoming is sweet
and his grin is bright
and his face is ruddy
and the lines around his eyes are deepening
as he watches for you,
and seeing you coming, chortles in anticipation

laughing he almost crushes you in his embraces
he’s welcoming you home, son,
his sweet sweet son