Love can only be defined by metaphor

For Tara

If these arms
were yarn
I would unravel them
just to wrap them around you
that much tighter

If my poems were stars
I would rearrange them nightly
Just so you
would always have something new to point to
and say
“That,
That is all mine”

I want to dedicate other people’s books to you

I want to rename time
after you
so when I wear a watch
I can say
“I’ve always got
the time”

The small of your back is the island
that my shipwrecked hands
have been swimming to find.
It’s been years
in the ocean
To be honest
I stopped believing in land
for a long time.
So I’m sorry if I
still carry
wilderness, This
body
is still a little bit bark
But you

are the artist who
I’ve been praying
would come carve poems
into me.

I’ve never been a door before
but if I were
my hinges would creak out
your name.
I’m wide open now
This key
is all yours and
The arch way is just high enough
to echo
each time you speak. To be honest,
I thought I was a wall
It turns out it isn’t that at all
I’m four
walls
With windows and doors
and I am also hardwood floor
But you
are the all important roof
that makes me
a home

There is life
in here now
The bark’s broken
right open
I am green leaves in spring
taller than Manhattan
I am
one
big nest
I am twigs from all over
But you gathered them.

And I could only become
a tree
I could only believe in
an excess of life in this vessel
I’m exhaling branches

Because you are the sun

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