The Plea

your toothy lamp smile
is fading
from me

as i lay
my fingers tremble
for your curvesoft
legs
hips
back
neck

to twist up
in your
black cyclone hair
(the net that caught me)

and i hate that
word
(you know the one)
because it sits between us
like a mockingbird
and territorial

i hate that
word
that too-small joking word
i would rather use
my paintbrush
to stroke
a canvas-full of something
far greater
than
it

i would rather say
barefooted nymph
padding grassy tree-growings
blossoms in your hair
plucking the lyre
i made for you

i would rather say
ribbon sea creature
body twisting with the waves
hair to your fin-tip
casting ripples
over me

i would rather say
hidden under sheets
wound into you-me-us
with fjords and opera houses and ruins
through our windows
wire bed frame
mingled languages
towers of books
like we always
imagined.

not a word
never a word

but such
deeper
truths

such sweeter fruit
more solemn
and spanning oceans

and i am filling
jumbled
crossed leftright
wantingbegging
hopeless pacing why
why and why
is this less
than what you wanted
searchinggraspingtear-filled
heart swell


(like you,
i want
too much)


and
i
breathe
eyes drift down
to fade into
the imprint you’ve left
of your
black cyclone hair
and
spider web fingers
and
your toothy lamp smile

and
all that’s left
is:

i adore you.
please come back.
i can give you the whole sky.