All in Poetry
He will become a selfish lover,
Who guards his crumbs
There are friendships of a lifetime,
The kind that are held so deeply
They anchor us to ourselves.
We have discovered that.
Everything is sweeter
At the thought of yours
Before I slept
Like the trees of the midnight forest
Written after Theda Myint died. For the warriors who did return.
He ate a snickers
He looks up to where she has bewitched the marbles.
They are all different sizes, and they float,
Above the blanket,
Turning in elliptical orbits,
While she dilligently works.
I believe in the memory of bones.
And I remember that love must be a choice.
That every day I must point myself in the direction
I am going.
There are all these hours
In any given day
But they don't seem to have space in them.