what is a poem but a plan?
i, your brownie,
will be in like and in like and
turn the pages of time and
fly to the heights of the sky
we don’t need a home in
Emerald City, love,
for it will be right here, in our
simple home with our unencumbered
for 1 + 1 equals me and you,
and we will always be the answer—
dancing and tumbling because
we want to, and saying it all the while
aloud, no mind reading.
it will always be autumn for us:
living in the centers of both our worlds,
hardly relegated to corners or the
uncertainty of infatuation,
you, my little bee.
no paper doll here, but the real thing:
a real, beating heart,
real gratitude for you,
the real me for real you,
no archetypes necessary.
i will accept the company
of you, and i will always choose you,
because you’re the prettiest apple
of the eye a woman could ask for
and not defer.
from Emerald City to Damascus to Emmaus,
every step and place brimming with clarity—
electric in its glee and maturity,
unshackled and free.
you are the ink in my pen,
and I’ll rhyme for you, just say when,
the moon in your sky,
ready to shout and reply
that our love will never burn.
But here it is:
whether rain or shine,
whether push or pull,
you will always be the “you”
in verse, fiction, or haiku.
yes, what is a poem but a plan?