Afraid to sleep at night I held onto you.
Your breathing that went into the rain,
and became wet around the eyes;
I moved closer and the vastness of your ribs
became a lighthouse, a bed, a mountain.
My head was in heaven and I knew I lived
near a church as fragrances of pews
were my clothes. I wanted to live.
I watered my tongue as strange voices
circled its goodbyes and mimicked its sorrow;
I found a dead light bulb near my mouth
and moved it nearer the sun. My suitcase
was full of solitude. A ship full of dreams.
Experience: land, gates, and maybe a bicycle.
From 100 Love Poems (Earl of Seacliff, 2005)
© John Pule