a good thing

a litte, fish-hook tug
at your heart may be a good thing
a blessing that you love
someone enough to miss them
a little, fish-hook tug
half bitter, half sweet

Dedicated to Jillie and Olli

your table

feed me
I'm always hungry
give me tiny tastes of your cornucopious self
I get drunk on your large amount of
"earnest" and "weird"
your "smart" is my favorite spice so far,
it burns my lips
your "affectionate" reminds me of authentic chai
made with cardamom and "tender"
your "volatile" and "sturdy" nourish my bones
like sautéed collards and chicken
some days you serve dessert first
with your "twinkling" and "dark-eyed"
serving hot chocolate with chili powder
your "exotic" has a tendency
to dribble down my chin and we laugh
darling, I love that I can never have enough of you
there is certainly plenty of your perfect to go around
but never doubt that I'm starving
may my hunger never take more than
you offer but rather
inspire you to give freely
never fearing I will tire of you
becoming full, and leaving your table

you come to my well to nourish yourself
you lament that the rope burns your hands
you complain that the pulley squeaks
but you continue drinking
you continue taking, all the same

I tell you to toss in a coin and make a wish
because I'm full of magic
but you say what my well has to offer
isn't worth a penny or a dime
or even an ounce of your time

and I sigh
when will I learn to deny you
stolen noursihment
from the very first drop?

I sure felt the fall

muscles, once sturdy, are aching now
the lines defining their strength
I used to lift myself from the earth
gingerly

life-laden

sometimes carrying just yourself
proves to be too much
but don't be surprised
it's not as if something
that glorious
could be anything less
Than weighty

I don't go to haunted houses
because people are already so full of ghosts
they splatter love with their blood
their screams hiding 'round corners
to startle me into evasive action

You didn't know it
but i was holding you hostage
twirling fingers
twisting ropes above your head
the profundity in my eyes
telling you lies
about what belonged to you