Handfast of a soul

 You run through my veins like gold flake and saline.

My skittish love, clever rabbit.

I lay in your warren to feel your soft glow, the ever warmth and always

Sun of your smile.

Your fingerprints pressed into my skin like clay

Sculptor of

glyphs, a language I cannot read. But error is half

Knowledge of translation – I, learning your stone speak

And you my fire tongued accents.

Send me to the kiln to take shape for you. I am ready

I am ready, I have waited a year or two and now

We fit, finally, identical like a handprint in the sand.

Part of me was made for part of you.

Complimentary colors sliced together on a palette

To be weaved with a knife and spread to

Make a sunrise or sunset, and you know, I really can’t tell the difference

Between the two anymore?

I do not know the line that ends the “before”.

Where my love ends for you and begins for myself twines to enter through the same

Looking glass;

To make themselves both a space in a room that stood

Stagnant

For all of my life.

I bleed into you,

my iron dense,

My ocean, my upright, my function.

You take me,

Like salt in the mouth from sea air.

You come into me,

such a closed door, hinges rusted shut

But you walk through like

Footsteps on fallen snow.

Soundless and irrefutable.

I hold you.

Hands through the hair and skin

On

Skin

Rubbing like kindling – shine to the shadowed crevasses in both of our

Minds and

Love, we shall sleep soundly

In a shared bed.

Because I know I have been wailing for home

For so long

Searching in dust and bar rooms and wrong

Turns every half mile –

Bitter blinded and habit bonded.

I see with eyes like sea glass, my clever rabbit, kindling, sculptor, that you are also

My shelter.

I have come and shaken off the letch of the cold.

And I am your guide,

To walk, holding soft-handed and sure-footed

Ever onward

Together tied.