... I am Yours
Your Volcano
is a fixture,
posed to dilute me
of my will
so I can hear Yours
Your perfect plumbing
in my equator
is a bomb
to my syndrome
of snobbishly holding you closer
without letting you in
oh!
how these fixtures writhe
and your sacred altars erupt like quasars:
vicious specks
turning the white world intense
with Your sulfur
Your sonic abbreviations for my boisterousness
howling in candescent silence
Why weeping is such a favor
to the human.
Why folding the cards
doesn't change
their fate.
Why borrowing your car doesn't make mine move faster.
but I know WHO You are
even though my commitment is like a bridge over a desert,
I can go so far
waving my flag of YOU YOU YOU,
hoping you'll hear
that I AM coming.
even if it takes a new thousand leaves to birth ten thousand acorns
so a forest can grow a million feet from here
and mature into firewood
so I can melt my steel meanings
and careful carved bedposts
into the next set of girders
and come that much farther
toward the ONE
I Love You
Your Beloved
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