March

Tiffany,

I’ve gotten used to sunlight with you,

but no pressure! Just—

spring doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

Your softness,

as the green seeps in.

I’ve got only 27¢

and some soul

to spend on you.

Sudden sunlight striking through,

to find myself kneeling.

My bones shattered

then welded

into this sudden page

and you.

In a dorm room,

we make sin out of our bodies,

such joy despite illegality.

There is no shame in love

like this: our mouths open,

gasping white plumes,

we send messages to the sky.

Yesterday

I opened my coat

and your yellow hair flew out

like a migrant bird.

I watched the wind take it upward

and I was beside you, flying.

Notes:

Audio poem performed by the author with audio engineering and mixing by Benjamin Davis.

Source: Poetry (January/February 2025)