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November air pours in from the dark island night
Through our Caribbean windows, 
A sea salt breeze, an exhale, white cushioned wicker chairs
Window slats turned out 
And I turned in, a white nightgown
A full breath in my bed, eyes closed 
more lightly than an infant’s palm

A familiar corsage sits on the night stand
Next to the red blinking 12 am, where we had hastened
To bed, to roll out feather blankets,
To trace the curve of our intertwined hands
To leave the first mark on our flaxen rose stationary
Noting how our crawling would become steps
And our eyes would tantalize
Tomorrow and each coming day
Our hands raised high

But love, you bore me in different hills
You spoke to me with a sharper tongue
Your corsage was a cell phone, and your flashing 12
Was a different 12, and it hurt my hazel eyes.

Love, you rib my imperfections
You slight my bed, with bad pillows
And dreams that make me too contented
With dreams that look too much
Like my reality

O love, dear love
Could I solicit for just enough of nothing?
Can you give me enough, or give me something
My hands are full of bells and disconsolate bones
Clinking like pennies on glass, they tremble 
and they slump

O love, you're disappointing
My fingers have lost their veins
They no longer beat like young little hearts
But dance like frantic ants
with their teeth sunk in

My hands can’t find you and
They won’t leave me alone
They  won’t be let to rest, and I won’t be let to know
Whether this season is ending
Whether I will fail, or raise my flag
Whether I will ever really know you

But I pray each moment
I hope for just enough
I will hope with each word that falls off
That you will fly safely
That you will love graciously
Whether for me
Or beyond the sea

I pray, my love, I won’t let go
My love, my God, will carry
I pray you will remember 
To dream
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