Sometimes, You Have to Let the River Live Its Unruly Course
I am spilling words
I can’t bargain with; they are
and unrelenting, and the truth is –
I almost say I love you
every time we hang up the phone.
And it scares me,
because my heart is full of dirt
and I just want everything to grow –
but wishes are not wheelbarrows,
and I can’t tell
the difference between
and flood – I only know
this skin is familiar
and this hand
is mine (I want it to be yours).
I wish I could restrain
myself, but I am too much wolf
and not enough sky – this is
my forest of promises,
my river of longing –
I want you everywhere at once,
recounting all the uses for a mouth,
and all the muscles in a tongue.
Your body is a safehouse,
a prayer, an act of self-defense,
a kind of magic, a divining rod
when everything has gone dry.
Still too much? To hell
with trying to train my heart
to be quiet; it won’t keep
like that. You’re beautiful
in all the ways that matter
in this obscuring and ugly world.
Maybe I don’t need to hold back.
Maybe you need to give in.
Maybe coming undone
is the only way to build