without tempting fate, there are only about
3 or 4 things that I would have done differently
you are the first one.
on my solitary walks
I cry to heaven, soundlessly
attempting to summon,
thinking about the fool
that I am, as I keep trying
and failing at necromancy.
walking, I watch the clouds being swallowed into space
and pray you aren’t moving with them
and wonder
have you descended like ash
into the grass
do you lie there, waiting
for me to fall
listening to secrets
buried in the blades, like
a bridal gift
something old and new in the earth
that marries the past into dawn.
without tempting fate, I whisper into
winds, waves and anything else
that might carry my plea
I would have done it differently
with you, and though I try
again, it ends the same way
with me braying toward a vacant sky.