Eighth Stage of Love
March 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013
who saw the hawk in the tree. Who saw
the bird’s swift descent. Once you said
you wanted to be my adventure. Tell me
now. Here, where shade is scarce. Where
the sidewalk is burning and dogs
walk with purpose. Remember when you found me
by the lake and we heard the rain?
How close it came but never reached us? Tell me
it reached us. It came down
before we had the chance to swim. But I don’t know how
to swim and you know that. It came down
and you took my hand. We ran to the house
we were renting. No, we ran toward the dam.
Remember how fierce the churning? The water
littered and loud? Last spring
they found that body of a man
and across his belly the gothic-lettered tattoo:
Cremate Me. That’s what I want: a message
and a journey. Like that, but not exactly.
Do you see? I cannot be the only one who noticed
that hawk. Or how it perched in the oak
before it ambushed something by our garage. Tell me
you want to know what’s wrong.
While we have you...
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March 01, 2013