Letters piled on top

Outside, in the front bed, the calla lilies are blooming.
I want to show you,
but you are asleep.
I want to tell you that they remind me of the cup Willy Wonka ate,
but those are daffodils, not calla lilies
and these flowers look like flutes-
Their outside petals are creamy and beige
like flat paint on walls
in a remodeled house
the inside deep purple
like a fresh pitcher of Kool-aid
i want to fill them with water
and take a drink
just how I used to do with tic-tac containers
when i was a kid

a universal pattern is emerging
where we talk and talk
then we don’t and we don’t
some mornings, i cannot rip
all those piled up letters out of your
so we let them tumble out
like tiny crumbs
left in the corner
to be noticed later

there are evenings
when i want to roll up my sleeve
and show you
that i’ve worn those same badges
as you
heart on sleeve
ten to the dozen
this too shall pass

“I come as a poet, to call upon a poet,”

you are tall and slender
with the weight of the world
giving you a curve in your spine
let me take it
so that you can stand
without worry

after all,
i spent so much time
waiting for you
and the calla lilies
are only going to be
in the front garden
for just a few days

wake up soon,
we don’t have to
pile words on top
of one another

we can just stand

knowing that
in all of this
we will grow


2 thoughts on “Letters piled on top

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