—I TEND TO CLOSE MY EYES WHEN IT HURTS

The Way

The way you cherish something wounded, defenseless and breakable.

The way dawn pardons unforgivable sins.

The way your listening is an acute act of mercy.

The way an astronaut can’t contain himself, or his joy, when the stars float upside-down.

The way Luna’s a cure for every pernicious thing.

The way a mood doesn’t require a reason or repentance.

The way you give a shit.

The way newborns and unicorns are both unbelievable and precious.

The way hope is contagion.

The way tears and giggling are opposites but the same, a form of salvation.

The way it jolts when it’s imperfect, but right, and we both know it.

The way prosaic is splendor spelled differently.

The way there aren’t enough pixels to make you any more beautiful.

Any words to make you more beautiful.

Any more goodbyes to make you more beautiful.

The way you show up when you shouldn’t.

The way a tongue catches when it tries to be sleek and impressive.

The way the wind wants to weave us together at this very moment.

The way you know God is a deaf, dumb and blind woman, smiling on her throne.

The way this poem would rather have me dead but you say, No. Not him. Not now. He’s mine.