again: an anniversary poem

how could i stop myself
when every part of me said yes and squealed and shimmied in a loop.
i broke before i buckled —
every ounce of you undid my disbeliefs.

you bent down, kissed the corner of my lips on our
second date. and again and again and again,
the juices hot and alive, we swayed.
i watched my face after,
expecting you to pull the shards from it
but you didn’t. you kept your lips pressed to the fire.

all year i had been shrugging
– this’ll do and that – my useless mouth like
bomb shelter foodstuffs, stacked pretty in a row.
to say i fell for you would be a disservice. i was all
elbows pushing skyward and you were
a love obeying itself. If you were a fall then I was born on my knees
waiting (ambling) for you to offer me a lift.

if fall was all we did, then what would come come winter?

dear love, i spied your heart from the mantel of my lips
its blush-red sounds drowned out the chanting and i thought if i died somewhat
in your love, that would be flattery.
your touch, my entirely.

clocks may cut us up like paper dolls. snow may fall and warmth may leave without announcement. but i will love you, i will love you
again and again and again.

december 1, 2008

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