Two Deer

My hands, always the perfect gloves for yours

naked, they hung as flags on a windless day

quiet in the shame of all the lonely things 

that they couldn't do

I sat alone in the crowd. I stood alone on the street.

A social eating disorder at the buffet

We are such complex machines of dreaming

piecing our selves together with pleas,

and promises of self comfort

but no words were harder or braver

than admitting I am lost without your hand

That though I move, and smile

and give care to others

I was my prison, and every cell

full of myself. . .

So my darling, when we forgave each other

for being apart. . . 

when our arms ribboned together

wrapping our beautiful presence

we bless one another 

two deer, practicing leaps over white fences

bowing swans in the sunlight

treading on ripples and quivers

barely able to contain our renewal of affection

Our butterflies dusted off their wings

like chinese fans, painted for a festival

My love, we found springtime in the face of autumn's end