365 Poems/202 Rut (Rough First Draft)

Rut

I am stuck, grave snug

in the lives of other people.

 

When they breathe,

I smell death approaching,

 

and I wonder if

I should go with him

when he arrives.

 

But then I remember

I love you

like I love dark skies

in December.

 

The pulsing, winding

veins protruding

from your forearms

seduce me all over again.

 

I want to wake up

to hear you murmur

in your sleep.

 

My heart is glad

that you’re here.

I know because it speaks

to me in whispers.

 

Caribou calves must be able

to keep up with the herd

twenty four hours

after emergence.

 

And here I am,

acting as though

everything is frostbitten

to the point of no return.

 

Advertisements