We keep our mouths
gardens under glass
like a seed without rain
or a heart smooth and white
is without any pain
in silence-
I rather
my wild edges
rather hold fire, stand
where the world ends
in a sudden fall-
so your hand is
everything, and not
more of the same
distraction/ and you
speak to me of
a temple of
a place we can pray
to each other on
knees somewhere
warm where nothing
burns but the quiet
behind your eyes when sad
with me, but truth is
loud like you and I
like love is loud and
trying to hold all
men equally-
the gravity of it
is weightless
like ice beneath
will give way
and we fall hard/
and terribly:
I leave my socked foot
under the blankets and
say, to hell with all of it
except for you.
In Due Proportion 