eyesofIris

You sound like the ocean
yet escape my hands every time I try
to hold you.
Sometimes it’s not enough to
press conch shells to my ears and listen to your regrets,
to open little glass bottles that you stuffed

somedays, i wish i were you.
 
i’m stunned, again and again,
by the way you defy death-
by your ability to sense danger, to sense the
predator slinking closer and closer,
his nose slowly approaching,

I read a book of your poetry last night,
as the world around me grew dim.
I slowly turned the pages and smiled at the windows
in your words, the way they took me to a room
with vases of flowers, and to a place

I feel like I’ve been given this
ginormous responsibility to
be alive in the world-

i’m trying to write in three dimensions
so that every word is echoed
in your ear-
every syllable is resting on your tongue,
every metaphor is tugging on your sleeve
i’m trying to write because
i feel so desperate to make

i don’t want to disappoint myself.
feeling all this weight pushing down
on me, resistance and tension
billowing from my shoulders like a cape.
i don’t care if you think i should have
done something differently,