To build a life with you
To take all your bowls
And all my bowls
And figure out how they nest inside each other
Inside the kitchen cabinet that's a little too small
And if (when) a bowl breaks
dropped by a careless hand (probably mine)
Onto a distant floor
We will patch it together with band aids and kisses and say
"This is something we have built"
My neighbors have two black poodles
Hopping about in their high fenced yard
Is this what it means to love?
My love is not a bird trapped in the cage of your fingers
My love is not a patient record of each of the starts in the night sky
My love is a wilder thing then this
My love is a lion's hunger as it devours another living thing
My love is the sound of music over a car engine loud and late
My love is the pancakes I made and then compost last Sunday
Because I love to dream and I can let a bad thing go when I must
My friend Robin told me they want to build the wood and hope foundation of love
From the ground up, add walls and a roof
But I tire of square shapes
My love is a language, taken, not forgotten
My love is the language of smells, I know it as I breathe but I don't have the words
My love is the language of a baby: new, full of potential, and utterly meaningless
My love speaks and I take pause and then
I shout what I hear to anyone who will listen because to be known,
For just a moment, is beautiful
My love is the wind and it is infinitive and powerful and chaotic and with time
It moves mountains
