Posts Tagged ‘relationship’

Walking into the snow
we speak in plain language.
This is all I need.
What could be more important
to say to each other than,
How are you doing?
and then take the time
to really listen to the answer,
and to the answer beneath
the answer.

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after the bridge
is burnt it doesn’t much matter,
the why


everything breaks
eventually and something
contains all this brokenness


there was never
a bridge anyway—it’s our own
charred flesh we smell

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New Plan

terrified to tiptoe
another inch closer to you,
I run to you instead

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Here, darling, let me
listen to your heart.

Let’s close the computers,
and mute the phones

and hush the long list
of things to do and sit

here together and listen.
We can be alone wherever we are.

Any part of me that wants
to fix you, I will invite it to still.

Any part of me that wants to debate,
I will notice it and allow it to fall.

I will not say anything
at all, except perhaps I’ll hum.

Maybe nothing will happen.
And maybe as the elders say,

we will be changed

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Digging In

There’s no way to know
before the spade has opened the earth
what we might find below.
By this time, I forget
what varieties I have planted,
Sangria or Russian Blue
or Russet or Yellow Fingerling,
forget what to expect there,
a still growing revelation
not so far beneath the surface.
Darling, come, bring
your spade. I’m not talking
about potatoes.

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Like quiet rain falling for days,
that is how I want to love you.

So that no part of you goes
untouched. The rain softens

everything, brings out luster and hue
in even the dullest gray stone, and with

the tiniest bit of light, the rain turns
the whole world to shine. So quiet

you almost don’t even notice,
but there it is, everywhere you are.

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A Hunger

There is a thistle patch
between me
and the raw place in you
I would like to kiss.
I can see from here how wounded
it is, and how much good
just one little kiss
would do if only
you would let me
so tenderly kiss you.
Instead you throw
more thistle seeds
into the patch.
Oh darling, I get it.
I have pockets of thistle seeds, too.
Why is it so hard to love?
And so I put on the battle gear
to make it through the spines.
But I can see in your eyes
how scary that must look,
me in all that armor, thick gloves,
long shears.
I don’t have any answers.
I despise these gloves.
But here come the finches,
the juncos, pine siskins.
Look, lover,
here come the mourning doves.

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Learning to Listen

Like every day

we wake up

regardless how
many layers

we wear.
All day

we’re naked,
trying our best

to pretend
that we

are not.
There are those

who hear
right through

the shirts
the hats

the coats,
who hear

the words that
every heart

is beating
under vests,

and v-neck tees—
hold me,

hold me,
hold me,

let me

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after the fight
the evening is simple—
the dishes being washed,
the unfolding of sheets,
the laying down


what is not said:
well, I guess we are not
exactly sure what
that would be now,
are we


on the shelves
stacks of bowls, plates,
the glasses in rows—
so normal they look,
it could be any night


I don’t know
I don’t know I don’t
know I
don’t know I don’t—
geese in the pond


what do the geese
have to do with anything?
if you have to ask,
you have perhaps not lately
watched the geese


all along the path
pussy willows, white and white
and oh! so soft
I forget everything
save willows, willows

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Forever? That’s quite
a promise, but can you
love me now?


On my lips
too many rising kisses
left to dangle


Reaching for your hand
to touch
what doesn’t speak

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