YWP

Love

Is like light

Is like a rose

Growing from the darkened depths

Of a blackened bramble

Climbing through the soil

With shadowed claws,

the air tastes like honey and promise 

sticky with the scent of blooming jasmine 

and freshly cut grass that crunches beneath bare feet 

the sky drips blue 

stretching wider every afternoon 

I got home from work at nine o’clock and decided that I would go down, through the gate, across the creek–socks mushy all of a sudden in my Adidas sneakers–and into the meadow for a walk without stopping to see anyone.

I'm six on the living room floor -

the pink album the pink album I chant -

dad puts the Supremes on the record player, the jacket handed to me -

pink, with three of the most beautiful women I've ever seen -

I did not know kindness isn't always loud, 
not the grand gestures, not the 
throw-the-coat-over-a-puddle, 
because sometimes 
it is simply someone sitting on the ground 

We all hold hands with murderous intent

tra

ci

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the line between good and evil

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