Poem-A-Week

plant a forest of kisses.

watch how the branches burst forth

and the roots dig deep

here in the fertile crescent of my neck.

 

plant all the invisible things

that give you shelter when you bleed,

that deliver you from your personal Gethsemane.

yes, even the ones you can’t look in the eye.

 

plant your desire,

unfurl it and swaddle me in it,

for desire is the antithesis

of decay and God knows how desperately

I’ve been wanting to want something.

 

now all I want is you.

and here you are, blessing me,

my only begotten miracle,

cradled in the crook of my neck.

​

you’re at once enough and more than enough,

catapulting me by the minute

between satiation and overstimulation.

my heart is a spinning top.

​

come home, come home, won’t you?

wander back to my neck.

you needn’t stay forever,

a spell will suffice.

 

if you were to permanently reside

in this vulnerable curve, oh

dear, I fear I’d implode from bliss,

cease to exist as I know myself to be.

 

that is to say, we’d become

a delight too wildly transcendent

for mere mortals such as ourselves

to deserve, much less fathom.