Leaning into the Afternoons

braided

Share it now!

will you meet me?
I want to lie with you
on the moist summer grass
of the hilly graveyard
beneath the keyhole stars
above dim bodies braided with the earth

I know a place that can be seen
from no road
every word whispered
the sky framed by trees
schooner clouds unmoored and
leaning into the harness of the night
backlit by pinpricks
of light that took lifetimes to arrive
finally

will you meet me
in the garden of old stones?
tender words on fire with
slow dusty age
and sweet rage

alive like Vincent
who opened the gate and said
“If I had it to do over again
I would paint just one more canvas
Before I shot myself in the chest
Barely missing my heart
And dying anyway”
(“La tristesse durera toujours”
And Theo was ever mistaken?)

will you meet me?
I have decided
knowing that I am to be buried here
beneath the open air
that life would be a mistake
if the two of us did not lie down
first
rest together
just here
for awhile
breathe deep
while we are still

and stare up at the shifting shapes
(I can see your eyes now) as we
try one night on for size
drop the coin-operated moon
into the slot of your heart
bewilder together at not only
what might have been
but, most importantly,
what is

will you meet me?
I want to lie with you
on the moist summer grass
of the hilly graveyard
beneath the keyhole stars
above dim bodies braided with the earth