If I don't say (something), I'm not sure how I will keep
my head up, letting the sun give me premature wrinkles
when all I want is to be alone, even if that means
being lonely all the time.
I always have to huddle with these blankets,
for I get chills at times I don't know, only when
moonlight is shut away by my bedroom blinds
and I realize I may never feel warm,
without being overheated, anytime soon.
I dream of an island, an island with beaches
only able to be shared by my husband and I
for we will know love doesn't lust or demand
or prey on vulnerable skin...
but ever since that weekend at the lake,
at their lake, not mine, my feet touched
a few feet of hardening sand.
It wasn't as soft as I imagined it, no,
it was lacking sunlight and proper care
from storytelling feet,
yet it felt good, freeing in a way I could
never understand before because freedom
is a political term right? Or does it have to
do with morals, never emotions?
And having the opportunity, somewhere
far in the future, to not hold back anymore,
be who I am and not distance myself
with I'm alright's and I'm not hot,
when I'll be able to end the anger, pity
at my mistakes,
and be understood by him....
that is what I look forward to.
Not finding out I have just successfully
launched my career or paid the mortgage
on my first house (before the age of fifty)
and published a collection of older poems
where honesty was an off and on mood,
none of this.
I will be with him,
and no matter if we are in the same state,
country, or hour, all I long for the two of us
is a moment (however long God allows)
between the ocean and the shore,
so I can say breezes are not framed
for decoration on my skin
but that I can sense them, making
chromatic scales on my neckline
as he and I rest, speaking out
the balance of warmth and saltwater,
throwing aside the blankets we
had kept sewing in case our depression
grew in words and strength, a body builder
never satisfied.
But those blankets are for picnics,
checkered hopes and tiny, mad ants-
they were not meant to keep us tucked in,
forever.
