wilderness

tell me how did you feel

when you come out the wilderness?

but you haven't seen the wilderness

you set it aside

to visit on your vacations

you drive to

in you impenetrable SUVs

you like the idea of being scared

in plush theater seats

an exit sign always lighting the way

I tell you

I'm scared

that you've set this aside

now that I've come to your home

to sit in your parks

I tell you

you don't want the wilderness

we've been fleeing to you

because the wilderness

is too much to care for

too much to bear

home

under the last breath of evening light
I'm finally not alone
watching the leaves move
watching you explore the waterfall

I cannot tell you the name of the tree we sat under
or the exact shade of green
the trees lent to my vision

but the feeling of your hand on my shoulder
the wind lifting my hair
all working as one

I am home

I do not know where any of this begins
or where I end
space between our skin
soil under my feet
and yet

I am home

mail

there's a letter
waiting on my desk
with your name on it

"take me with you!"
i tell it.

mournfully gazing
at the letter
that can't quite
hold everything i'd like to send

i keep a stack of letters
that you wrote my name on
sometimes
i pull them out
just to look at
my name
in your handwriting

just maybe
it'll be enough
to make your heart jump
to see my familiar scrawl

sin

trees
curling, waving
finery on display
while we nonchalantly
drive by
coughing our exhaust
on their extended gifts

After a week of cloudy days

all lifting
our green leafy heads
crooning our love songs
leaves, fingers
animal eyes
stretched
toward the sun God
absolute adoration
for unchallenged light
dependent on
the mysterious untouchable beast in the sky
all the same