For our first date,
I’d like to write you poetry.
I’d like to wax diction about the shape of your breath,
to list endlessly the particulars of your molars,
but I’d bet those’re better saved.
No, I’d like to write first, some poetry.
I’ll chat endless about active syntax,
or walk you through the forest’s longest path;
just to see sunset cast you ethereal.
But, I’d like to write you poetry.
I want to listen to your late-night cadence,
all your remembered tales,
the smile that licks at the edges of your best memories.
For our first date,
you poetry,
it doesn’t matter what we do,
but,
I’d rather the ravel be that dawn-light tug,
that draws me from your voice,
than the end of some movie.
