Burning the Journals where I left you
I made a fire
For burning letters
It’s not subtle, I won’t wait
With tin eyes and sorrow
It’s merciless to let love bleed away
I’d rather dream in clear waters
And rejoice in night swimming
For riding my arctic shade
I’ll swallow glistening for breakfast
I made a fire
To light my poems on fire
So that I’d forget you
And find wishes more divine
Between the yellow lettuces
And the weird blue dreams of yoga
Underwater, at least I’d be ready
To know love in a different way
The sort of mental love that
My non-animal self prefers
That does not require wombs
Or divorces, or vows for orchids in bloom
That will probably be taken back.
