May 13, 2022

poets
are supposed to be
sentimental
romantical
(or so society says)
their best works coming
from falling
head over heels over head
over and over and over again
with people/with person/with newfound loving

but i count myself a poet
(as strange as it still feels
internally;
but
you can’t do something
every day
for over a year
and not get to take that label)
and i suppose i feel
sentimental
romantical
but without the drama
without the dire feelings
without the falling/
not knowing/
which way is up/
will there be ground when i fall/
will it cushion or strike/
a final blow/
so/
i feel like my poems aren’t the romantical kind
most people expect

but i’ve had nearly ten years with you,
six of those legally wed
(straight out of a time i thought that’d never be a thing)
(planning a wedding when you don’t know which state
will abate
the legality of your love
is an…interesting experience, to say the least)
and we skipped most societal standards,
no first/second/third date rules,
just us, sharing our personal traumas
amid late night kisses
and early morning apple juice;
a first “date” lasting damn near 24 hours
(and only a previous commitment kept it
from just extending
ad inifinitum
as many sapphic first dates go)

a one night stand
turned to talking
and magnetic-felt pulling
until we collapsed our expectations,
shed our ‘no [new] relationship rules’
and went from officially dating
to quietly engaged
in four months
flat

and each month after
i’ve learned from you
and grown with you,
and we’ve had great times
and incredibly hard times,
quiet times
and a few loud times,
but most of the time
it’s simply
comfortable-being-with-you times.
i love our co-[in]dependence
that we’ve come into on our own terms.
and that year [+] where we could only see each other
was such a welcome gift.
and even though nothing is ever promised,
i can see my future more clearly
with you
than i’ve ever seen it before,
and i know
when we’re ghosts
we’ll finally be able to cuddle the way we want
bypassing physical boundaries
and feeling that closeness we yearn for
in every tight tight hug…

we were wed
6 years ago on this day
so i suppose that’s why
today
i’m feeling
sentimental
[and a bit romantical]
but also
sentimentality sneaks up on me
most days
that i get to see you
across the table from me
working on your programming
while i write stanzas of free-form poetry,
or when we’re apart
and i feel the heartbeat vibration
of my phone telling me it’s you texting me
little words of love
or collections of memes sent as a love language all its own
or getting ready for bedtime
in this house we’ve made a home
with our adorable little family
and the comfort of us
just being
[together]

i’m sentimental for you
in a way i never thought i’d be
and i must admit
i’m grateful for it,
my Kip.

June 13, 2021 (part 2)

our dog
is a beach dog
but not an ocean dog

although

she treats the sand like snow,
rolling around in it,
licking it up and eating it,
rolling around some more in order to get out of her eyes that sand from the first roll

and even though we had to pull her away from that joy,
and even though we had to rinse out her eyes so they would stop swelling,
it was worth it to see her jump around like a puppy
(and to see folks’ faces erupt in surprise when we tell them
“this dog is thirteen years old [today]!”)

~~~

i didn’t realize
love languages show up
so early

but damn if that
less-than-two-year-old
didn’t hand off his juice,
and blanket,
and bag of apples
the minute he decided
he liked us.

~~~

arriving home
far too late
making eye contact
with a young buck
as he munches on leaves,
hardly concerned we’re twenty feet away
(as my dog remains frozen with the decision
of whether to chase this creature
as friend or prey)