the best part, you sonofabitch,
is looking for the exact word
to use like a ear bud
or sharp salad fork—
the exact word that dangerously, delicately
and exactly gets to the tiny shrimp, the hidden olive
the waxy crumbs of feeling
that fighting you and loving you
shake loose from heart and ear.
The exact word is a powerful word
and we scratch it into the ceiling
with diamond eyes hardened by waiting
and forgotten contact lenses;
Mine is “when?”
Yours: “how long?”
Exact words aren’t Comforting words;
Those we use for pillows at night:
mine beautiful us we
are dams of warmth and memory that
keep us from drowning
in waiting and the silence of
craning ears, for our sounds:
my footstep, your key in the door.
Truth, my man.
This looking for words like rafts
to row over the ocean of reasons-why-its-difficult
tells me that no matter what,
we shall float, two coconuts landing at the same shore
(Cocos nucifera: high tolerance of salinity, preferring high humidity)
become two trees curving with words like birds walking squawking
in our oiled hair—time sunlight walk red wine mashed potato
quiet sex LOUD love babies mine yours ours—
two trees living, eyes closed smiling, wow and always on our lips.
Jonathan Hende...
I enjoyed this. It’s refeshingly modern. well done!
MissAlexis
You sonofabitch. :)