Dying breeds soaking —
That was us. We had two hours.
I knew I was finite. We were succeeding.
I wanted to tell you so much;
“I’m melting this morning
Like a statue that really cries. This way!”
I remember thinking you
Were the kind of person who made me think
“I don’t even have Ireland guts, really,
I want to know more about how you see
A building cutting the sky and I don’t have
That nagging curiosity about living on a farm,
Not here, not in New York.” I turned to
Tell you that but saw a rat. Literally book perfect.
So when I say
Nothing when I notice
You have stopped for a picture
I am saying I love you.
We stumbled into revolution. I couldn’t stop my hands
Or anchor my jaw. If my dog
Had the kind of thoughts I was having
He would bare his teeth. You nodded.
And by myself I’m sure-handed — good with matches —
But trying to light a fire alone can get to a point
That feels like lottery chances. And I do get lucky. I shouldn’t
Be so harsh. It’s just that when I took what you said about solitude
Into my next twenty-three solitudes I lit
About fifteen fires. You have no idea how good that is.
Your gift to me is momentum
I’ve kept forever.
So when I say
“I’m so proud — I am so proud
To be this warm,” to myself,
I am saying I love you.
“Words by Garret Durbin, images by Andrew Mandinach”