I’ve seen the back of heads and asses switch to a goodbye beat too many times to count.
Said farewell in every language except happiness and left tears smudged on so many doorknobs I’ve lost count in the aftermath and still, I let you in.
Let you stop on the stoop, drag your feet across the plain old mat to keep from dragging grass across the carpet, and eventually, I’ll see those same feet dashing in the other direction, and it’s so depressing.
Still, I let you in. Still, I offer you a cool drink of water, or something stronger, but you’re never up for it. I sip alone.
Maybe these spirits won’t haunt your footsteps in the morning or the evening or the yesteryear I’ve come to live with…
On the day that marriage was honored equally
I got into a bit of a debate with
A young minister
About the context of things
About how it would make sense
To know what a forest is before you decide you can see through it
Context was revealed
But I’m sure he only saw through it
Trees compose a forest just like people compose a marriage
And weddings are forests in autumnal garb
Brilliantly reflecting sunlight as newness fades
And people thrive in the context of love
No matter the clothes they put on
Or the measure of their melanin
Or the fault in their constellations
We are and have always been zodiacs.
Dusted destinies and big bangs
We are and have alway been celestial bodies that will die long before our light fades
From forests riddled by winter
From forests lacking petty concerns like
people sleeping together
night after night
We are both trees my brother,
But I would never vote to prevent your forest
So long as it grows and nurtures
I see your forest, my brother
I see your forest
Yet, you begrudge me mine