Six feet down
You found my dancing shoes.
My southern wind.
My moraines as the sun goes down.
The pulse of my breath strained.
My best friend ring.
I get what you said about the liability thing.
I just wanted to be prepared.
I just wanted not to be scared.
These words are easy to write.
Amen. Amen. Amen.
Such a holy word in the world.
Originated from another Hebrew word,
Which is actually a mistranslated word
For an old Egyption King.
It doesn’t feel so divine
When the origins are dug up.
I didn’t want to feel that way.
I wanted to be known
As precise definitions.
To me, those are senses I love.
To be a noun, a verb, an adjective.
A word that is actually a trinity.
“to conjure or guess,’ = verb
‘soothsayer, astrologer, sorcerer = noun
‘pertaining to the nature of God’ =adjective
I know each side of this trinity.
So what is conjured in a name?
The holy docks where we sat and felt God.
The way my planets liked to linger in Pisces.
Conjure up a starry night,
Maybe the quiet palette of a late summer day
Finding rest in the cooling of a sunset.
Some poems capable of changing the hue of a gentle disposition.
A piano to blanket feelings with sound.
A friend to hold my hand,
Squeeze it if need be
With the pulse of twinkling star,
Maybe just for now let’s just wear our human skin.
We spend so much of our time being ghosts of our former selves.
Tonight I need to hear your heartbeat.
To let you hear mine.
I don’t want to bury all the beautiful parts of me
Six feet underground.
I want most of what I found to be divine
To be found in you.
Protect the image of my vision,
Be my sweet Saint Veronica.
Soon I will be gone
And I want you to be able to feel
Every sin and sound I witnessed as divine
To be embedded in the temple of your presence.
So, hush-a-bye- the rock and roll is sweet,
Let’s dance like it’s my last night in town.
Let’s be good at what we always did best.
Loving all the mistranslated, uncomplicated
Things we know to be divine.