Love Poem

Love you. Trace patterns on your back
like subway systems.
Hold you careful, reverent,
trying not to leave marks behind.
Love you. Share bowls of cereal, share clementines, share casualties.
Heart a breathless jump-rope chant
skipping off searing August asphalt.
Love you. Gather treasures:
Shiny pennies, snail shells, sea glass.
Know you. Know you’ll see them like I do. Know that’s enough.
Love you. Dog-ear pages of me. Curl back my cover,
leave notes in the margins.
Toss birdseed with you. Hang laundry.
Sip too-hot coffee in pretentious cafes. Take sugar, take cream.
Walk through my door, leave your keys on my dresser.
Love you. Love you in a way that scares me.
Love you seatbelts and helmets and life jackets.
Give you the tangled snarl of thread
stitching my bones together.
Announce unguarded memories that feel unspeakable.
Face the great encroaching dark
with a lantern.