Photo by Flickr user J. Curley. Creative Commons.
Here, in this cradle of earth, surrounded by low boulders,
was our wedding bed.
I think this is where I married you.
I do not think it can be undone.
Instead the land wove deep threads through us on needles
so tiny we thought the pricking was pleasure.
It was in this place that I loved your warmth,
sheltering me from the winds' knives,
and you loved the flavor of my mouth,
which reminded you of riding the ocean.
You wanted to be drunk on me and I let you be,
never understanding that the words of a drunkard
do not truck in the unintoxicated world.
I would have let you take me then,
there in the sunshine and soil,
or that night in your cold bed.
As much as I wanted it I am lucky you didn't take me.
I am even luckier that you left me.
Your absence, and this thin, ridiculous longing,
are far better companions than you could have ever been.