Because Deathbolts Illuminate the Wonderstorm
Cruel, the highway thattook the dogs.
I’ve seen its shouldersconvulse gently in the crying of nightfallthe way a teenaged girl can beboth vicious and vulnerable.
It doesn’t like what it has done,and I don’t like to say it.
Sometimes I hold a kaleidoscopeto my beloved’s eyeand ask himto never look at anything againbut me.
How can I trust a worldthat hasn’t yethonored the softness in his pupil?
Is it possible to protect those we love?
To protect anyone?
I plant plum trees in his heart.
I devour his fruits to the pit.
Love is sometimes a stayagainst insanity.