two poems

A dead man’s nostalgia

Don’t forget me, please.

The old treehouse and its rotten ladder,

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Those baby pictures laying on the dusty counter,

Old drawings on the walls

from when laughter and cries would echo from them,

Dirty handprints on white doors,

The broken snow globe in the attic,

Don’t forget me please.

_______________

The knife of a good carver

Is love always this good?

With its wings of maroon silk

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And its sweet golden arrowheads.

Like the knife of a good carver,

It’s shaping me, not cutting.

Thank you for this love,

For keeping me from plummeting,

For inhaling my sorrows

and exhaling goodness.

For carving your name into my heart.

For each look of your luminous eyes

makes me feel like a moth mistaken

for a butterfly.

No tear I am shedding over losing you

Can ever wash away your name.

 

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