Poem

Love, an empty house without you

Aug 2025

Love, I’ve made the bed for you.Your duvet cover sits besides me, hardeninglike snow.I have given

up my waking hoursto lie neatly

on these sheets, so green and unwrinkled thatI becomea pastured animal, sunbathingon the pasture

of no pleasure.Theremay not be a better timeto wake

me, Love.The night is still idle, and I have just discoveredthat there is nothing beyond your field of unfeeling.

In my dream, I am bathedpink and new,frolickingat the cusps of morning. Beneath me,

the dirt ground seepsinto roots of June. Like that sage day spentin the waking,

Isuccumb in the river,letting the current garrison me, lettingit followthe jumping troutupstream.There may be no better time to wake me,

Love.Your ripe bells are still ringing,and in my dream, wild animals

are running to it.My youth stands before them like a teary madonna,and like a teary madonna,

my childhoodstretches before melike wheat.

Once, Love,I would’ve harvested you,but now, I am searching

for what is still unripeand juiceless, likethe name, changed

each time I call itback.There

may no better time to wake me,Love.I have just burned my pastured prison, I

have justdarked, I have justseeked.