Small Graces
Because the taste of
you, sadly, does not last
on my tongue, and the
lifespan of your fragrance
on my skin fades like
crushed violets
my next kiss will linger,
my love, so to draw you
into my mouth and breathe
you into my heart’s most
private chamber
and with the spirit of you
wet on my lips,
I will speak
to the meadow and
the win the trust of
its green universe
presenting the promise
of your enchantment
in exchange
for a patch of grass
and a tree
under which I may
plant a garden and
deposit my tears
I will kiss every blade
of grass and
bear the weight
of life’s cruelty
under silver clouds
until beauty is born
stem by stem
and every flower yielded
will be of you
and will sing your name
across the meadow
where I will gather
your small graces
back into my heart
petal by petal