There are gasping and
Breathless moments in the night
And I
Fear, in the cold sweat of
Dark that I have
Lost you.
I was once
Hidden and forgotten, and
You remembered.
I wrote you into existence when
You were a distant, crackling
And intermittent voice, bounding
Over electric hurdles, crossing
A thousand miles of telegraph wire
To sing your talking-song.
You read to me,
Stories from my childhood.
I am still afraid,
Still sweating,
But in the arms of your voice
I am
Cradled and I am
Brave and I sleep like
The victors at the
End of a
War.
I have held you
And you me,
Cupped, running over and
Spilling out onto the ground;
A love that confuses like a
Hex, to those who are
Not learned in our arts.
I watch the deep gold in your eyes.
I can see the treasure beneath.
I am always greedy
For your copper and your bronze.
Shining and polished in olive oil,
The sun on every brush stroke
God saw fit to color you with.
A pair of hearts rolling a marching song,
A tattoo beat of two,
Matching red feathers in our caps.
Soldiers of the field, over the hills
And far away,
In a foxhole, together.
