When you kiss me I can’t stop kissing you.
You make me want to write a poem line by line,
bowl a set backwards, knit a cashmere novel or two.
If I die in my sleep will you close my eyes and remember me
to a lively word or two?
Hush, they know the way
through metal, war and paradigm drift—
a long lazy corner for innocents. Just too much for some.
It’s a shadow bombed morning before I walked the dog.
It’s a nature ripped town that tells me what I want:
the darkness of the sky again. Yet another child.
I want a world with no love of fear and no
fear of love. I want another dawn.
But canter gone is the sign of distress.
Hoping I can be a different person
is the clarity of despair.
Please the lord,
are there gifts
so pure even the giver doesn’t get them?
metonymy4u 
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