A Love Poem
Years on I find things have taken root
like trees and weeds about my
heart and lungs, so now I breathe
in and out the names of those I love,
so that every time my heart beats
against the rooted constriction
of their embrace my bloody organ
aches for them. Over and over
their names on my breath,
and my pulse pushing thoughts
of them into my mind.
And I wonder: was it their plan
all along, or was it mine?