Sometimes I would like to be a hero—

Clean-handed, showing up,
averting eyes while all the villains
fall on their own swords.

(After I stare morbidly
while my beloved bargaining chips cry.)

I love you with
all the relaxation

in my shoulders
as your lats
bump my traps.

Cedar and birch drift beneath stone arch,
carrying you, carrying me, like the aliens we are
through black hole into universe unknown.

They’ll spit the word “fashion”,
as though what they’re trying to vomit out
isn’t un-silenced, honest expression.

They’ll tell you how to dress, as though
they’re not saying how to feel.

They’ll condemn all impermanence,
as though phases aren’t actually stages

If I love you and you love me, 
we both I Love You, even as
we flip each other’s pronouns ’round, 

mosaic inside irises
glowing between eyelashes

green, gold, yellow, and brown
like fresh leaves on autumn ground

each glance I give
my heart’s footprints