shot glass
title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

M. Dae


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Grace Notes

Rock steady hip to hip
to a clearing I made appear behind a trailer hitch
all the ways we tangled in blacksod and straight slices of grass
and snapping around with that look on your face. Say it again, like I asked the question.
When you stuttered that love cannot begin in a pyrex breakfast casserole
and I called bullshit because you love spicy cinnamon buns and there are never any left -
A pendulum swinging between grateful and gun-shy. That's how I loved you,
cards of cliches and Patroclus suiting up for his man because it's just what you do.

Somewhere in your chest the old orchid is rising and I am steadfast.
I will re-learn your patterns, your breaths, your heartbreaks
make a map against my own and see if we can road-trip it out west this summer.
I want you to zip across the universe brief and reckless as a comet because
I know how going fast makes you smile. And you know that I can't help but linger on your
mouth at the edges. There are roots here in my ripe center that you can always return to.
I will lift the water from the scattered half-full glasses you never put in the sink,
keep my eyes trained on dogwood opening four-fold ivory.