I’m Sorry, July

Purple ribbons
As arms I wrapped ’round lavender

I don’t know what they held hope for

Seems like they should’ve been longer
Streaming, like celebration in the July sun

As it stands, they dangle
Stunted
Too short

Apologizing, that I tied Purple ribbons
’round a fragrant bundle
Bound beauty makes me see
What you couldn’t utter

I needed you too much
I wasted your year and one half

Mute

I take back the lavender and the twin beds we pushed together, drunk on the pollen

Those saltwater waves and sand dunes?
Say goodbye

Every mile of concrete, each and every city song — mine alone, now!
Hot gravity and thick urban beats, such gifts I do revoke

But the mountains
I’ll let you keep
For you were late
You fell asleep
And they don’t remember you, anyway

Magician’s Scarf

Who each woman is

Does she smell like lavender fields

More worthy of obsession with each passing Day

Why the fabric of her dress upon her skin causes men to sing?

The Earth springs forth, as I imagine, musical notes with her every step. Yes.

Such passion must she follow, as to leave us inspired

Her smile draws from an endless-deep joy well

Words from her soul have him come hither, a pulling of magician’s scarf

Impart

Give me, gift me your assignment now that you are gone, for I was to each day greet your wrinkles, your papers: My touch, the unsugar-coated ink atop your laugh lines, your copy lines…my voice, an unedited reporting of your happiness, your joy.