Manon

For Seth

To love you is to know
ventriloquism

feel my heart thrown into every part of your day
soon, my hands, the dish you bend your neck above
come supper
my wrists, the sun kissing the pads of your step, warm
my hope, the hallway lightswitch snapping its fingers
calling us to bed.

Each morning
you perch above the day
like the soft-gazed gargoyle above the streets of Ambiens
you watch my motions, my comings, my goings,
down the front steps and into the early light

to leave you is to feel your knowing heart
ricochet from my cheek
I return to you like a unspun watch, no time has passed
your feet on the floor means we are greeting the night together
means I have home to come to, where you wait.

We are soft ritual, something
spread out under forward thoughts
the upward pink palm smoothing the linen of the day
pulling us further from the slow waltz of our first meeting

the creature, the silent creator
which of us is opera
and which is alcove?
Which of us is silent in the spotlight
of I will forever follow you?
Which of us the namesake in
this clever ascent to
family?

I once watched you balance on the edge
of familiar to me, once watched you guard my path 
like you’d never walked another,
like protecting me was now as close to you
as instinct. 

We have spent years, here
in the living room
unfolding into newer, older selves
the nod of the calendar
as it flipped through our growing, our unending
pewter years stretching soft claws into the morning cumulus
the tired tugging between us
for the next shared hour of rest
for the cobalt looks of please, of always,
of home is between us

your hazel gaze, the ivory seal
holding my heart together.

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